Boogeymen III: House Of 1000 Cliches
by Legend Maker
Summary: On All Hallows Eve, the battle between the worst of the bad guys and the worst of the horror films continues. Blood! Gore! Comedy! Weight Gain! People Falling Down! Let the slaughter of villain and trope continue! Story should not be read by the humorless
1. Man, Are We Doing This AGAIN?

**_Boogeymen III: House of 1000 Clichés_**

"Hollywood will keep trying until they get it wrong."

-Danny Devito

_Part 1: Man, Are We Doing This AGAIN?_

Or

_Length Matters Not. Only Content, Needed To Ensure That…Content…Is…Good…Oh Forget It, Ok, This Opening Is Way Too Long Again! I Need To Do A Lot of Establishing! It Won't Happen Again! Maybe! You Know Me! Shut Up! Just Read!_

* * *

_It's different on the other end._

And Robin paused, struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. _Well it is, I suppose…but what did that have to do with my current thought process? Was I thinking that while it's easy to take advice, giving it is another ball game? That's true but…really why did I have that thought? And why does it seem so familiar? Almost like I'm repeating myself…_

_…Must be imagining it. Strange._

Robin let the puzzlement settle on the back of his brain as he looked back at what he had been doing before he had been struck by his odd thought: standing before his team, the Teen Titans (all nine of them, plus friend), and giving them advice. Unlike a lot of meetings, which usually had some degree of chaos, this one was unusually solemn. And Robin knew why.

It was why he was talking.

"Paranoia is not a benevolent attribute to possess." Robin said, as he started slowly walking back the way he had come. He found that whenever he had to address the Titans while he was standing (instead of sitting) and the situation was calm, he moved around a lot. Perhaps it was a childish desire not to seem like a teacher, lecturing his class.

"To be alert of your surroundings, aware of them and their possibilities, those are fine mental qualities to have…but paranoia, their redheaded stepchild, is not. The former will keep you on your guard, give you an edge against danger…but paranoia does not strengthen your mind, it weakens it. If you sharpen a sword too much, you'll eventually make it brittle, and it will do you no good when it breaks. The same applies to anticipation, and preparation, of possible threats…especially when they seem to be an annual occurrence."

"So does that mean we should lock Noel in his room, considering he's so far on the edge of paranoia it's amazing he hasn't fallen off, even when we're NOT facing possible death and dismemberment?" Terra asked suddenly. Robin glanced over to the white garbed and haired Savior, the first of the new Titans after the core five had formed, as his own face knotted with displeasure at the mild accusation disguised as a mood lightener.

"Hey stow that shit right now Tara…" Savior replied tersely, before Robin coughed to get everyone's attention.

"Guys, really, bad time for this." Robin said. "This needs to be discussed. Even for you, Noel."

"Talk away." Savior said.

"Now, of course you know what I'm speaking of…two years ago, due to an unfortunate series of events, what we have hypothesized as a dimension of pure chaos magic…and I once again state this is just a theory, and if it is incorrect we are at a bit of a loss to what the truth is. In any case, this dimension, which was, in a sense, almost like clay, able to shaped if given the proper 'ingredients', if you will, WAS given a set form to inhabit…by us. And this set form, due to said series of unfortunate events, was the attributes of what we generally call 'horror films'. In layman's terms, we brought movie characters to life. And while technically that is not REALLY what happened, it is the easiest way to explain the events that followed, as the actual truth is so complicated Dr. Fate would have trouble puzzling it out." Robin said. "So, using the simple terms. Not only did we manifest these movie characters into our existence, we also caused what has been dubbed the 'atmosphere' of these films to invade and in some cases override the basic rules of reality we function under. This 'atmosphere', again in layman's terms, basically altered the area and the mindset of people in the infected vicinity so that they would look like and behave as people did in so many of these horror movies. This primarily was shown by causing people to act 'stupider' then they normally would, such as going off by themselves when they should be sticking together. And even when an effort was made to NOT act like this, the atmosphere has been observed to outright force people to behave in such a fashion. Including literally warping us around to get us separated. Basically, it needed us alone so it could kill us, and it did everything it could to keep us alone, or at least in as small groups as possible. On top of that, Noel has observed that longer term effects of the atmosphere's infection can include literally warping the structure of the building it has manifested in, as Noel told us in his description of the so called 'Hell Corridors' from his attempted infiltration of the Hive last year. It's a double dose of trouble all around: not only are these movie villains placed in our world with all the powers they seem to possess on film, but then fate stacks the deck against us even more by giving them greater means and opportunity to kill us. Then again, as said, these manifestations force us to try and survive under the concepts that these films present, and their main concept, of course, is to get as high a body count as possible."

"Not that they succeeded with us." Beast Boy said, looking pleased.

"Careful Gar. Don't assume that our perfect record two years ago was due to us being heroes. It was more luck then anything, I think. Luck and time." Savior said.

"Come on Noel, do you HAVE to be such a killjoy?" Sophie Mathews complained: the lone non-Titan, she was still in essence a part of the group by being the Titan Scalpel's girlfriend.

"He does have somewhat of a point guys. Noel so far is the only one to experience this effect twice. And what he spoke of bears weight."

"The longer it stays out, the stronger it gets." Savior helpfully added.

"Right. Our experience lasted no more then four hours: we were able to 'close the door' on this horror dimension we accessed/created, whichever it was, before it could muster any strength. But the Hive was infested for nearly twelve hours, three times as long as us, and as Savior reported, the atmosphere only grew fiercer and more malignant in its attacks and its manipulations. It did not go easily that time. And as the Hive demonstrated, this infestation is not unique in where it happens. Indeed, it seems that only thing needed is for the proper key. And we all know what that is."

"Control Freak's remote." Scalpel said.

"Which despite our best efforts we were unable to completely do away with." Cyborg added.

"Who would have thought a fat nerd could hide so well?" Savior mused to himself.

"Indeed, we were unable to locate Control Freak, and hence have to assume that wherever he is, he has one of his remotes. Which means that wherever he is, there is a chance of another manifestation…though, it is possible that horror films in the actual vicinity may be needed, as the past two experiences have demonstrated. If Control Freak is in hiding, then there is a chance he is nowhere near any actual horror films, whether in videotape, DVD, or projector reel form."

"On the other hand, Control Freak is a giant geek." Savior noted: apparently his tone disagreed with Raven, who elbowed him in the side.

"Whatever the case is, we don't know for certain. Though as last year demonstrated, an Orb of Archetypal is not needed to trigger the effect…that's just a bonus. An activated Orb functions as a metahuman and magical power blocker, and sealing the powers of metahumans certainly helps when it comes to kill them…well, if you have powers to seal." Robin said, with a ghost of a smile. Various Titans booed him, and he smirked briefly once more before becoming serious. "The point is this. Whether we created it or accessed it the first time, it is very possible it could happen again. And as Noel's experience demonstrated, well…in theory it could happen anywhere. We're not sure if Control Freak's technosorcery constructions are the only ones which allow the manifestations: quite possibly any technosorcery construct will do…though those, as Raven tells me, are quite rare."

"It's a dangerous field. They're about as rare as legitimate Orbs of Archetypal: even the best of us have trouble finding them. Lucky for us." Raven said.

"But, even assuming that only Control Freak's remote can set it off…he's still out there somewhere. And for the last two years, this manifestation has happened. Third time's the charm. At least the last few times it manifested around people who had some idea on how to defend themselves, namely us, and the Hive…if it manifests around normal people this time I don't want to think of how bad it could get. What's worse is that we have no idea if it will materialize in a local area. Control Freak could be in Australia for all we know."

"I doubt it. He doesn't strike me as a long distance runner. In all aspects." Cyborg said.

"Right. This comes right back to what I was saying at first. There's a lot to consider. It's easy to get paranoid. But we have to try not to. The city, or some area in the world may need us tonight." Robin said. "So we have to alert, and prepared. Cyborg?"

"Defenses are primed. Not as high as last year, but still greater then the norm." Cyborg said.

"Raven?"

"Charms are laid, spells are prepared. I'm thoroughly ready." Raven said.

"And everyone else, like last year, has backup weaponry?"

"To the teeth." Savior said.

"Lock and load." Terra said, as she snapped back the chamber on her handgun.

"I have my stick again!" Scalpel said, waving around the table leg he had grown so fond off last year. This time several types of Blacktrinian bladed weaponry backed it up.

"Ok then. No need to be paranoid." Robin said.

"But Robin, just because I'm not paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to not get me!" Gauntlet said.

Everyone stared.

"Well, if zombies manifest again this time, at least we'll have someone who can go after them without fear." Savior snarked in a nasty tone.

"Oh we don't have to worry about zombies."

"Why not?"

"Because I intentionally went to all the morgues in town and shotgunned the recently deceased." Gauntlet replied.

Silence. Robin arched an eyebrow.

"Dude, you did WHAT? Because that's BRILLIANT!" Beast Boy declared. Savior facevaulted.

"At least someone thinks so…those morticians are such whiners!" Gauntlet declared. Robin joined Savior in a facevault.

"Gauntlet's possibly illegal action against corpses aside…" Robin said as he got up. "Good. We're ready. So now we sit and wait. And hope all the trouble we have today and tomorrow is strictly of the norm…well, as normal as our lives get. But horror movie slashers and monsters coming to life is out of the ordinary even for us. If we're lucky, all we'll have to deal with is the usual immoral, illegal acts. Any questions?"

Terra raised her hand.

"Yes Tara?"

"Uh…I am curious, what's the difference between immoral and illegal?" Terra said.

"Well um…huh." Robin said, having to give the question some thought. The other Titans appeared to be pondering the question as well, with Beast Boy even turning into an owl.

"…Oh, I know! Hoot!" Beast Boy said. "Immoral is the act of doing bad things…uh…"

And then Beast Boy abruptly turned into a bald eagle.

"And illegal is me with a stomachache!"

A chorus of boos accompanied a storm of thrown objects at Beast Boy.

"HEY I DIDN'T WRITE IT!" Beast Boy yelled as he turned human again and tried to defend himself.

"OK. Hopefully, the worst thing tonight will be Beast Boy's puns. So everyone do what we discussed, and we'll keep an eye out for trouble. Even if all we do is spend two boring nights in the Tower sitting by computer monitors. Better that then wearing ourselves out traipsing around Jump City, or just sitting on our hands. Any other questions?"

Terra raised her hand again. Robin could tell from the look she had on her face this wasn't going to be legit, but he called on her anyway.

"Yes Tara?"

"How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?" Terra said.

"Ha ha ha! Brilliant quoting of _Aliens_ Terra, I can do it too; all right you dogs you heard the man and you know the drill! Assholes and elbows!" Robin said in his best Sgt.Apone impression, as he did a waving hand gesture, indicating for the Titans to get out of his sight.

The Titans scattered…all but one. Robin wasn't surprised. She was the only one who hadn't spoken during the meeting. Last year, Starfire had been the most intensely apprehensive of the possibility of a repeat performance, and this year didn't look any different. Indeed, of all the Titans, she seemed the most bothered of what had happened, though Robin had never really been able to figure out why.

"We're as ready as we can be Star. If it happens…we'll handle it…like we always do."

"And if it happens elsewhere?" Starfire asked.

"Well, we're burn that bridge when and if we get to it." Robin said. "We really can't prepare the whole world…but besides Jump City, where else could it really happen?"

"It happened some distance from Jump last time. Robin, it did not repeat with us…but can that be said of elsewhere? Do you think…others might be prepared as well?"

Robin arched an eyebrow.

"Well…on one hand once bitten is twice shy…but on the other he was never the sharpest bulb in the socket…"

* * *

Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. 

In the clouds, the gigantic HIVE Air Fortress, a floating citadel of high tech power and destruction. Brother Blood's greatest creation and his pride and joy.

The ironic thing was, the second encroaching of the chaos magic had probably allowed this floating juggernaut to be completed and launched. At the time of the infection, Savior had infiltrated the HIVE as a spy on their temporary base in an old abandoned school, hoping to learn the details of the 'Hiveathanas' (called thus as most of the students and staff on board, it referred to the levitating juggernaut as the 'Sathanas', a gigantic spaceship from the computer game _Freespace 2_) before it could be completed. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, Savior's cover had been blown, and he had been forced to retreat before learning anything substantial.

If anything, Brother Blood should be thankful for the magical manifestation of horror films that had attacked his temporary base and nearly killed everyone…including him. But Blood didn't stay dead long as the chaos magic incursion was finally sent back and sealed away again, reversing the effects of its reality manipulations, including the deaths it had caused. And even if he wasn't, he shouldn't be afraid. The Hiveathanas was far better secured and defended then a partially rebuild old high school, and this time Blood and the students knew what could happen. He shouldn't have been afraid.

Gizmo certainly wasn't (he was ready with weapons just in case), but considering what he was looking at, combined with the orders Blood had given, it appeared some didn't share his lack of fear. Blood had ordered all the students to their rooms, on a Class A alert: that meant the students were to stay and wait until an assemble or an all clear order was given. While useful if a combat situation arose, as the students could be gathered swiftly, it was dreadfully boring, and Gizmo had a fair idea why Blood had called the order and thought it was for the most part asinine. So he'd disobeyed the order to try and convince Blood to revoke or at the least alter it.

But much to Gizmo's surprise, he found that Blood's main office/room had been sealed, from the outside and in. Blood had literally locked himself in his room.

For a moment, Gizmo wasn't sure if he should throw up his hands or begin working on his resume for a new job position, but in the end he tried to contact Blood through the intercom.

"Sir…"

"I HAVE ORDERED A CLASS A ALERT! DISOBEYING MY ORDERS WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES!"

"I know sir…but I must say this is not a good face to show the troops."

"What? What's wrong with it?"

"Well, you tell us all to be ready…and then you lock yourself in your room. Some would say you were hiding."

"Um, I'm not hiding. Really. I just felt like... building a fort. But I didn't have any pillows around, so, I barricaded my room with this handy ablative armor plate I had lying around. And the separate air supply, food supply and plumbing that don't need the ship's main systems to work... I just don't like sharing. THAT'S ALL!"

Gizmo rolled his eyes. If Blood wasn't careful he was going to be overthrown by someone who had a little more steel in their spine (even though Blood quite literally HAD steel in his spine. It didn't seem to help him).

"Um, sir, it is clear that the fissure that allowed such dark magic into the area in the first place requires a technosorcery construct, such as Control Freak's remote, to successfully punch through the barriers between realities. We have no such creations on board, sir, so if you're worried about a repeat from last year…"

"SHUT UP OR I'LL FLUNK YOU!"

Gizmo sighed.

"Yessir." He replied, and flew off. Looked like his Nintendo DS and PSP would be getting a workout tonight.

In his room, Blood sat in his chair. He did not rock back and forth…but one got the sense he was a few more frayed nerves away from doing so, as he stared at the blank televisions before him. Normally he'd be watching the events of the Hiveathanas on them, but not now. Now…the blank screens seemed more menacing then anything they could announce, including a full-scale hero attack.

It was strange: Blood had experienced very little of the event, having been stuck under tons of rubble for almost the whole thing and dying very quickly after he'd finally freed himself. It was his students who had endured the true horror. But in the odd way such things reversed, what students were worried were keeping far better grace under fire then their leader.

Lucky for him. In more then one way.

"No no, this time I'll be perfectly safe. Just me, my teddy bear, and a base that I threw out ALLLLLL the DVD's from. Every last one... Nothing's going to come for me." Blood said to himself. "Nothing's going to come... for me, at least. Not for me."

* * *

"And besides us and there, where else could it happen?" Robin asked.

* * *

If you were the average person, it would seem to you to be the average dark alleyway, a narrow space between buildings on nondescript streets bearing nothing special: the usual apartment buildings with small stores sometimes at their bases. It was strewn with the average trash, and was as silent and abandoned as any average space that existed in cities all over the world. 

But, if you were more aware then most, you might have noticed a few things.

Like the lack of animals, no rats or dogs digging through the trash.

Or the fact that for all the garbage, there was no smell at all. No stink, no pleasant scent, nothing. Like the air was sterile.

But even if you noticed these unusual facts, you most likely would have been unable to make anything of them.

Indeed…this alleyway would only reveal its secrets if you know where…and how to look.

Then perhaps you might see the door, set against the stone. The name is carved into the door, and the lack of light makes it immensely hard to read, but if one had brought a flashlight, one would see the name clearly. Moriarty's.

The man standing in front of the door had been told several conflicting accounts on how to get in. If you were worthy, that would be enough. You needed a password. You needed an acquaintance inside to vouch for you. He'd ever heard that to get in you would need to present yourself with freshly bloody hands and, in perhaps the most ridiculous account, the heart of a freshly killed virgin male.

He really had no idea what to believe, so he'd decided to just try and find the place. And amazingly, he had, without much difficulty.

So he decided, lacking any other idea, to knock.

And much to his surprise, the door swung open.

"…Hello?" He said, as he poked his head in, mindful of a possible attack. Nothing.

The door opened to a very dark room: indeed, the only light came from below, spilling from the bottom of a set of stairs that sank into the floor. He slowly stepped into the dim light, looking around. Nothing, which was very strange: he had heard there was some kind of door guardian, bouncer types. But there was no one.

What there was was another door on his left leading to…something: beyond the door was utter pitch blackness, and he did not have any way of illuminating it.

"Is someone there?" He asked.

Nothing.

He turned his eyes towards the stairs.

Motion in the darkness.

The skin split on his arm, as a dull white sword of bone shot through and clamped onto his wrist, a two-foot dagger speckled with sharp barb segments to rip flesh even as it stabbed. His face grimaced as the sword emerged, but that was his only sign of discomfort, as he stepped back, settling his legs into a combat position.

"I'm sorry if I have trespassed, but you will not find me an easy target." He said in a warning tone.

Whatever lay beyond the shadows did not react, as he tried to see what it was…

And then, much to his surprise, there was a slight motion. Hard to tell just what made it, but the body language was clear: go on in.

A bit confused, he looked at the blackness beyond the door, but there was no more movement. He looked back at the stairs.

And arched an eyebrow. They were gone. Now the light spilled from another door across from the one he had entered from. What was that? A spell of concealment, to lead someone down the wrong path? He'd heard of the forces that supposedly ran this area: such a setup would be simple for them.

But he seemed to have been approved, as he grimaced, the bone sword shifting back into his arm, as he headed for the door. And opening it…

A complete 180-degree turnaround.

As he went through them, the door he had entered through closed, and an immensely faint noise of annoyance issued from the darkness. Then it was quiet.

The room he had entered was huge, a sprawling setup that seemed to take up most of the building the place was hidden in. At one end of the setup lay a large bar, at another a stage that seemed to be closed at the moment, and several other doors and hallways lead off from the other walls, leading to other rooms and stairways. Tables were placed across the room and against the walls, another room for a few hundred people to be comfortably entertained, though there was maybe 1/10th of that number there.

Not that the small numbers mattered, because they were very noticeable people.

Those that WERE people, anyway.

For this was a location for what some would term 'villains'; those with greater powers in some shape or form beyond the average man, without the endless and painful desire to try and use it for the good of the species and the world. Though the people here had desires as varied as snow in the sky, it all came down to one central core: they were out for themselves. They were, as the saying went, the bad guys: virtually all had warrants for their arrest and crime sheets as long as your arm (for some it was as long as the average human's height).

Which meant that he'd found the right place, for he didn't exactly play on the side of the angels either. Well, he'd tried…but no more. They'd made his choice for him.

Let us briefly leave this man as we look around this unusual place…

As we head to the bar, past a lovely young woman who is made even more striking by the color of her skin…and the bartender, striking for her skin color and for many other reasons as she tries, without much success to clean a glass with clawed hands and a single eye, the other covered by a patch. Indeed, lacking an eye seems to be a trend, as we pass her and come to a group of three people. Two are missing an eye: the older man, his mask removed to reveal a face with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard, and on his left a young woman, also lovely, her hair almost an identical white, and her face also lacking an eye, the left socket covered with a patch to mirror the patch on the right eye of the older man. On his right is the only one with both eyes, a young Japanese man with spiky hair and features that could be called handsome if they weren't so doggedly serious. Indeed, the young man's face was as serious as the discussion seemed to be. Oh wait, there is someone between the group of three and the striking girl as well, dressed in red, a boot with a bladed spur pressed up against the edge of the bar, as a pair of very strange hands (are they made of some kind of energy?) slam down a glass and demand more of whatever he was drinking, his large mane of spiky red hair, almost like a lion's, drifting slightly as he makes his request to the annoyed looking bartender. He returns her look with a wicked grin.

Yet somehow his face, for all the viciousness gleaming in his eyes, can't match the look on the face of the man sitting slightly away from the bar, at a solitary table. The blank look on his heavy boned face does not conceal the terrible coldness in the features, as he sits calmly, drinking from a small glass…and playing dominoes. A strange contrast…

Perhaps as strange as the last figure at the bar, sitting at the very end, slim and clad entirely in black…and wearing a motorcycle helmet (it looked like one anyway) that completely concealed the face of the wearer.

Then again, maybe not so strange of a choice of costume, as we pan away from the man and pass through the building, through the tables, at which sit so many contrasting characters: tattooed punks sit with blue skinned long nosed magicians, while nearby red haired men wearing black suits and speaking with English accents play cards with orange robots and strange creatures that seem to be made of paper, while we pass by a closed door that apparently leads into an office (with a large DO NOT DISTURB sign on it) and also swing past a small man seemingly made of wood as he runs back and forth delivering food and drinks (and apparently not being very happy about it), as we go by a booth where a man with a backwards head is arguing with a man who seems to have stumbled out of a small time home improvement show, and by another booth where a large gorilla sits with a normal looking woman and a skull container holding a brain, past a wall of various knick-knacks and doodads set up to either impress people or remind them of where they were, and then past a table where a man dressed in black and white (with a light bulb on his chest) furiously scribbles on a sheet of paper, as if trying to decide something, as a young man with spiky white hair, pieced ears, large lips and unpleasant looking eyes dressed up as a waiter walked away from his table and past another one where a man wearing green and with his brain clearly exposed in a glass dome that had seemingly replaced his skull sat and drank his choice of poison with a contented smugness.

And even then that did not describe them all, as we finally return to the man who entered this room of strangeness…as he walked into the bar.

No, no like the joke. Give me SOME credit.

This new man was about six feet tall and had a powerful build, as if he had spent some time working out, either casually or not. By 'or not', what was meant was that he seemed to be wearing military fatigues and a combat vest, which suggested that perhaps he was part of the army, though this could not be proven one way or another. As we move up the body and to the face, we see two items indicative to a particular trade: latex gloves and a mask that covered the mouth and nose.

"Name?" Came a sudden voice, and the masked man turned to see someone he had missed before: a gigantic robot, or rather a man wearing a robotic battle suit, holding a clipboard in his mechanical fingers.

"Ah…Doctor Westminster." The masked man said.

"Right." Adonis replied, marking it down and heading off. Dr. Westminster raised an eye.

"…Hmmmmm." Dr. Westminster murmured. The title of 'Doctor' alongside the fatigues meant nothing. As a villain, one tends to lie. Perhaps it simply came with the white full-face mask that covered his face. That was topped off with a white fedora. The kind of hat you'd expect on a gangster. A bit of a contrast, but not exceptionally so.

Unless you were some people.

"Hey, mate."

Dr. Westminster turned again to see the red-haired man who had been sitting at the bar (he DID have hands of red energy, emerging from the healed stumps where normal hands had once been) standing near him. Too near him. He spoke with a clear Australian accent, and his eyes and shoulders indicated he wouldn't mind some trouble.

"Can't say I've seen you around this place." He challenged.

"Jack, drop it." The strange barwoman warned. What was so strange about her? Well she WAS missing an eye. And she was nearly seven feet tall. Heavily muscled. With gray skin. And long pointed ears. And two-fingered hands covered with metal claws. The fact that she was wearing a normal barmaid's outfit made her look even more ludicrous, but it didn't take away from the looking of warning she could give, and was giving to the red haired man named Jack.

"Hey now…just wanna make sure no one's INFILTRATING us, Becky." Jack replied.

"This isn't the HIVE Jack. No one gets in unless the boss lets them in. And even that has its failings." 'Becky' replied, her lone eye harshly examining Jack as she said the last line. "And call me 'Becky' one more time, and I'll stick my hand up your ass and feed you your lower intestine."

"Just try it." Jack snarled back, as he raised one of his energy hands, and the energy reformed into a set of claws far crueler then the ones the bartender hand. Her eye narrowed.

"Wait, no!" Came a voice, and Jack looked down at the little wooden man, who had once been the Puppet King…now little more then a puppet. "You KNOW the master hates fighting! You KNOW there will be consequences."

"…Shah, whatever." Jack replied, and then in one swift movement he lashed out a leg, kicking the Puppet King across the bar.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The Puppet King crashed into one of the walls and fell to the floor, stunned. None of the other villains in the restaurant/bar seemed to pay much attention to this fact.

"Heh. Goal." Jack said, and turned back to Dr. Westminster. "I'm watching you, newbie. Don't think you've escaped an ass stomping." Jack said as he turned again and headed back to his seat, as Puppet King got up and walked off miserably. Once he'd had the power, the magic, and then the Titans had beaten him and it had all been downhill from there, ending up as a slave/punching bag to the patrons of this café. One day though…if he ever escaped the clutches of those who owned the place…

"Ignore him. This is a place for all of our stripe, no matter the color, to gather for whatever reason." The barwoman said. "What are you drinking?"

"Water." Dr. Westminster said.

"Right, water…" The bartender said as she turned back to the myriad of bottles behind her, showing alcohol of all stripes, including a few drinks you wouldn't find in average bars, mainly due to the fact they didn't exist anywhere else on earth. "Water, where is water…"

"The sink perhaps?" Dr. Westminster offered. The bar girl stiffened as she realized yes, water was not an alcoholic beverage.

"_Izuna,_ I hate my job…" 'Becky' said as she walked off. Dr. Westminster stared for a bit, and then reached inside his coat.

"Such a strange group…" He said, as he removed several bottles of pills. Anyone with medical knowledge might have recognized them all as powerful painkillers. Perhaps understandable when part of your power seemed to be bones forcibly emerging from beneath the skin.

"Hey! Bartender! Freshen my drink?" The figure at the very end, clad in black and wearing the motorcycle helmet (if it was one) asked as 'Becky' found the sink and began filling a glass with water.

"Yeah yeah yeah, keep your pants on you breast-taping weirdo…"

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Well it's true!" The bartender said as she stood up straight. "We all know the truth now, 'Nightwalker', so why are you bothering to keep the helmet on?"

Brief silence, and then Nightwalker reached up beneath the side of the helmet and carefully pressed a button. In a sudden whirring of hidden gears, the helmet split apart and slid down to attach itself to the shoulders and upper back of the costume Nightwalker was wearing…revealing HER as a lovely girl with wholesome features and deep red hair that she undid from a carefully tied knot placed at the back of her neck.

"I have my reasons." Nightwalker said. "Can I have my drink refreshed, or are you just going to stand there and call me names?"

"How can I? You just have one. Sine." 'Becky' said.

"Don't call me by my real name, or Becky will become YOUR nom de jour, White Hole." Nightwalker said.

"Yeah yeah yeah…" The White Hole said as she went back to give Dr. Westminster his water.

"Such odd behavior." Said the Japanese teen with spiky hair as the White Hole walked past him. "From what I heard, the White Hole was savagery and bloodlust personified. Trying to comprehend her working here is hard enough, but hearing her talk like that…"

"Not so odd, Kurai." Said the man next to him, a man VERY familiar to Teen Titans fans. "The owners of this place have great power at their disposal, even in their recovering states: it is most likely in their abilities to keep the alien under control and not attack everyone who looks at her the wrong way. In the same way they avoid fights."

"_Hai_, Slade-sama, but that poses another question…why does this place exist in the first place? It makes no sense at all!"

"That's why it's not canon, stupid." The white haired girl said.

CRASH!

The loud noise echoed through the bar, and a moment later the door with 'Do not Disturb' written on it opened up.

A young woman, standing in at about five foot, five inches and a quarter (if one wants to be specific) emerged. She was by all accounts nearly anorexic, thin not only in body but in bones. She had long hair completely pulled from her face: brushed backwards, the hair itself reached to her knees (it was rather excessive). The face was rather nondescript due to its pale nature albeit for it being framed by dark blue veins streaking her cheeks. In the same vein – pun not intended – her eyes were also framed by dark rings beneath them. Her clothes were relatively simple, a long gray dress that reached beyond the floor. Patches covered this dress, metallic in nature, symmetrical in style. There is no real way that the patches could stay on, yet they remained firmly attached.

And one last thing. She was floating about a foot and a half off the ground. She blinked with red eyes.

"What the hell is going on in my bar!"

"Err…the fourth wall has been broken again, Mistress Sorceress." Puppet King said as he popped out of nowhere.

"Ugh." The Sorceress muttered. "I bet the bloody author…"

CRASH!

"…is going to keep pulling this…"

CRASH!

"…due to the nature of the story…"

CRASH!

"YOU MAY WANNA STOP WHILE YOU STILL HAVE A BAR ITHLIAN!" The White Hole called. The floating master of all magic, the grandmistress of grimiores, the Ayatollah of Abracadabra…

"Enough, a person can only take so much dribble."

CRASH!

"…Right. Puppet King, go fix the damage. And White Hole, my name is the Sorceress. Remember that Styles: you may be able be able to rend flesh with the best of them, but I have your soul in my grasp. So keep that in mind before you choose how to address me." The Sorceress said., not happy about being called by her real name, as she disappeared back into her office.

"And she once held the whole world in a grip of terror?" Kurai commented.

"Don't judge by appearances Rose. She may be in hiding for now, but one false assumption does not a defeat make." Slade said. "Besides, that wall of bric-a-brac isn't there for nothing. Most of them are powerful magical artifacts. She's probably using them to regain her power. This location can make sense, as a place for villains to regroup and plan. After all, we all have a single goal here."

"Plus, as I said, the story isn't canon. So the author can do ridiculous things like having her villains running and dining in a café." Rose said.

There was one final crash, and Puppet King groaned under the wreckage of the fourth wall.

"Rose, please cease these comments, this…occurrence is lacking enough grounding points as it is." Slade said.

"As you wish da…father." Rose said. Kurai frowned.

"Hey, Punk Rocket! Drinks at Table 4!" The White Hole called as he presented the music-crazed madman with a tray loaded with filled glasses. "And watch where you're going this time!"

"Hey! My feet are as skilled as my hands…that came out wrong, bye!" Punk Rocket said as he whirled and ran off with the drinks.

"Don't run human!" The White Hole yelled.

Punk Rocket didn't listen, as he slipped past the man with the face of such stark coldness: Killjoy, the mythical assassin…who was trying to build a little building of dominoes.

…We will assume this has some purpose.

What purpose?

You tell me. It was just one of the many odds sights around Moriarty's, better known as the Villain Café, where the bad guys acted like normal people, as much as they could. Hence why it was rather exclusive.

Unfortunately, some people were too stupid to understand the meaning of 'exclusive.'

As we go back out the door Doctor Westminster had entered through, into the very dark room…as a pounding noise suddenly sounded at the front door, a very loud banging. The door was firmly shut this time however, and hence did not swing open.

He would have normally ignored it entirely, but he was in the middle of something and didn't want to be interrupted, as a form stepped from the shadows of the doorway and opened up the hatch to give a very brief comment on the noise.

The shotgun blast blew his head to pieces.

The boom was fairly muffled downstairs in the actual bar, but it was loud enough for several of the villains to look up from what they were doing. And even if they hadn't heard it, it wasn't like the ones who had fired the blast were trying to be subtle, as the door to the bar was suddenly smashed open via a powerful (and way too enthusiastic) kick.

"ALL RIGHT NOBODY MOVE OR YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" The leader of the masked men yelled as he and his buddies stormed in. It was hard to really tell what they looked like with any detail: they were all wearing disguises, in the form of two sky masks, one stocking over the head, and one battered hockey mask who eye holes had been enlarged and whose bottom half had been removed to aid with breathing (why bring the hockey mask when it now covered less then half the face overall was a question lost on the robbers, who as you might have guessed haven't yet demonstrated much intelligence…wait a sec, a hockey mask?) Two of them were thin: Hockey Mask had red hair and (exposed by the removal of the bottom half) bad teeth. Stocking was even thinner, a real stick, and seemed to have blonde hair beneath his stocking mask. Ski Mask 1, the leader, was the only one with any real muscle on him, while Ski Mask 2 had started running to fat at least a decade ago. Their clothing was the usual mix of jeans and shirts with faded colors: Stocking wore a vest, and both Ski Masks wore work boots instead of shoes. All in all, without the masks, guns, and aggressive attitudes, they were just like any men you could pass in the street. Even with the masks and aggressive attitudes, they were pretty much nothing to the right crowd, which happened to be the crowd they were currently threatening.

But they did have guns. Stocking and Ski Mask 2 had shotguns, Hockey Mask had a sub machine gun, and Ski Mask 1 had a heavy machine gun that you couldn't just go into a store and buy, which denoted that either he knew was he was going into or he had issues with his manhood. They also had a few handguns stuffed in their pants as backup weapons. Armed and dangerous.

Though NOWHERE near the level of danger of the people whose bar they had invaded. What the hell they were thinking?

Well, one, this was a group of men to whom thinking didn't exactly come well in the first place. In any efficient sense of the word anyway.

Two, there was alcohol involved. You probably have guessed that anyway. Unfortunately, in a lot of aspects of this case, it wasn't enough.

Three, they had been given somewhat inaccurate information of the place and what (and WHO) lay within it. The thing that they had listened to was 'no security for the night', when there was a few things they should have listened to instead, like 'place where supervillains relaxed'.

Four, and this was perhaps the biggest one, none of the men who seemed to be thinking of robbing the villain café really had the proper superstition about such a place. Now, as detailed before, yes, the concept of such a place was ridiculous, but having extended the reasoning that as silly as it may seem, it did still exist, one would think that normal men of the wrong side of the moral scale would want to avoid it like the plague. Villains often sought out their human minions, not the other way around, and any postulating at such a place would most likely incur severe consequences. But those were the thoughts of smart men who gave warnings and rumors weight. Other men, not so much. And can you blame them? Supervillains do not kiss and tell, and the idea that they would gather together…well, who would believe that? Except anyone who was smart enough to.

With this lack of belief, plus the alcohol, plus the weapons, plus the idea they could make money, plus a burning desire to prove they were worth something, all these had driven the men down into the bar.

But, you say, once they realized just what they had stumbled into, even if it took them some time, why would they not turn and flee immediately?

For the answer to that, dear viewer, read on…

"I swear, anyone even twitches and I'll put a fucking hole in them the size of the fucking moon!" Ski Mask 1, the apparent leader, growled as he swung his machine gun back and forth: the weapon certainly looked powerful enough to make said hole. Of course, that was operating under the assumption that the would-be robbers were facing other humans beings, and in a lot of cases, that was anything but. "And believe me, I fucking mean it!"

Foul language every forth word, a bastion long held by those who are trying to seem tough. Of course, those who were truly tough knew it wasn't the words that made the man, but the deeds.

So why did the villains not rise up immediately and show these robbers just how wrong an error they had made?

Once again, there were several reasons. Some believed that this wasn't worth any effort on their parts and hence did nothing. Others were annoyed at the sudden interruption, but preferred to wait and see who would act first before acting in turn. A few others had realized just what was going on, but were waiting to see just what would happen next, for their own amusement. And some thought that the concept of men with weapons was so far beyond their notice that it didn't warrant an iota of their attention.

Unfortunately, when all these reasons were combined, that meant none of the villains sprang to answer the threats Ski Mask 1 was making…and more unfortunately (I'll leave you to decide for who), it meant the robbers actually thought they had gotten the drop on the villains and that the situation was in their favor.

Though it was clear that everyone beside Ski Mask 1 was nervous (whether it was because they had never done this or because they were just beginning to get an inkling of what they had walked into was unknown), the way they swung their weapons about, trying to cover every angle at once. Proper training for a group with weapons, it wasn't.

"Now, produce the fucking money now, bitch!" Ski Mask 1 said as he stalked up the bar, aiming the shotgun at the White Hole. Ski Mask 2 and Hockey Mask followed up closely, their guns still darting around, their body language starting to take on the heightened tone of panicked realization: Stocking was a bit farther behind them…as he abruptly stiffened.

The last part of their failure to flee was coming into play.

"Excuse me?" The White Hole said, not looking scared in the slightest: indeed she looked incredibly aggravated. Now, perhaps this would have broken through Ski Mask 1's initial yelling bravado…except the final part of the failure initiated itself at that time for him, as well.

At one of the tables, a smirk came over the face of a man. Now THIS would be properly entertaining.

"Give me the fucking money bitch! I know you have it!" Ski Mask 1 threatened. Meanwhile, Hockey Mask found his attention drawn to the three people seated nearby, all of them watching him with guarded interest. Something about them struck him, even with the outside force that had begun to act on his mind. If he'd truly known who he was eyeballing, chances are he would have lost control of his bladder. And possibly his bowels.

Nightwalker was a bit more on the alert then most of the bar seemed to be: Killjoy was still setting up his dominoes, as if nothing had changed from five minutes ago, and the newcomer, Dr. Westminster, seemed to be busy counting something. Jack was watching with a brutal glean in his eye: Nightwalker didn't have to know anything about him to know what that meant. Everyone else was either ignoring them or looking at them with annoyance…except the White Hole of course, who was very clearly becoming pissed off at having a gun stuck in her face. Her species, the Blacktrinians, if Nightwalker recalled correctly, had a weakness to firearms, which meant that the White Hole should have been at a distinct disadvantage, but on the other hand, she was the White Hole. If you didn't know what that meant, let's just say once that she had been the terror of two galaxies. And just because she was acting as a barmaid now didn't change that.

"Money? You think I just have a cash register I can open up? Who in the inferno gave you your information?" The White Hole replied.

"STOP FUCKING AROUND FREAK! GIVE ME THE MONEY NOW!"

"Yeah, now!" Ski Mask 2 echoed, in a tone he never would have used in real life, much less when faced with what he currently was…but as I've said, none of the robbers were really themselves any more.

"Oh are you talking too? Best be careful, you look ready to keel over without any help from me. I wonder, how much crackling would you make, pig?" The White Hole retorted, the venom in her voice only increasing. The gun in her face was only barely holding her back from doing more then talking: if it was moved…Nightwalker didn't like the possibilities.

Odd choice of words too: crackling was roasted pig skin, but much less known. Why that, instead of bacon? Strange.

Hockey Mask was looking past Slade, Rose, and Kurai at her, Nightwalker realized, and tried to keep her body movement neutral, not wanting to tip off she had a gauntlet-weapon armed and ready if it became necessary. However, it was somewhat difficult to tell from the eyes just where they lay, and to Rose Wilson (who was already suffering from a bit of trouble regarding vision, as you might have guessed) thought the man was oogling her, as her lone eye widened at this (erroneous) realization, and then narrowed in offended rage.

"Shut up!" Ski Mask 2 was yelling at the White Hole.

"Shut up? Or you'll what? Sit on me? You think you're threatening with that attempt to ignore the failing of your actual equipment?" White Hole said, assumingly referring to the idea (which could be wrong) that men with small penises try to fix it by buying guns. "You need to go back to school! Wait, maybe not…how did that chant go…fatty fatty two by four, can't fit through the bathroom door!" White Hole chanted. Nightwalker raised an eyebrow. The White Hole's current frustration to not cut loose was coming out in some odd ways.

White Hole didn't get to make any more grade school chants because Ski Mask 1 cut her off.

"SHUT UP! GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY OR YOU'RE DEAD!" Ski Mask 1 yelled.

Stocking, Nightwalker had noticed, had slightly separated from his companions, and as Nightwalker's eyes followed his movements, she realized he was approaching Killjoy. Apparently Killjoy's continued careful placement of dominoes was bothering him, most likely because it violated the no movement rule. Killjoy kept laying them down anyway, seemingly oblivious to it all.

"Oh please." The White Hole sneered.

"I WILL KILL YOU YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Ski Mask 1 yelled, his mindset seemingly stuck in a permanent loop. Was that due to personal failings, or outside influences? Who knew?

And so it went, as the Ski Masks yelled at the White Hole while gesturing with their weapons, and Hockey Mask (unfortunately) kept watch in the direction of Slade's group, as Slade noticed the fixed vision himself and began drawing his own conclusions, and Stocking slowly walked up to Killjoy, who had with smooth precision laid out a group of dominoes in a perfectly balanced array.

"GIVE ME THE MONEY! OR I'LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!"

"Fuck your mother." White Hole retorted.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Fuck your grandmother."

"YOU FUCKING FREAK!"

"Fuck your sister." White Hole said, clearly ready to go through every relation she could think of.

And even as this back and forth 'discussion' played out, Stocking finally got to his destination.

"Hey! We said don't move!" Stocking said as he finally got close to Killjoy, sticking his shotgun in his face.

Killjoy ignored him, as he placed another domino down.

"Stop fucking with the fucking dominoes!" Stocking yelled, gesturing…as his leg bumped the table.

With a very light clatter, the domino structure fell apart.

Killjoy looked down at what he had been building, as if confused at what had happened.

"Are you deaf? I said…!" Stocking yelled as he leaned in a bit more, as if to push Killjoy back with his shotgun.

If Stocking had seen it clearly, as Killjoy looked up, he wouldn't have seen an ounce of rage in the man's eyes. Indeed, there was nothing in them at all. But even he didn't much care for it when annoyances started personally bothering him.

As he snapped his right hand out, a motion that almost seemed like a slap, far too quick for Stocking to react to, as he smacked the shotgun across the right barrel at a perfect angle and with the perfect amount of strength, as the shotgun spun, almost slowly, around, Stocking's inexperienced hands already slippery with sweat and unable to hold it properly and hence losing his grip, as the gun was pushed out of his hands and did a perfect 180 degree horizontal spin, even as Killjoy, with amazing reflexes, carefully adjusted his hand position…

And grabbed the barrel, his hand curling around the trigger, the positioning of the gun reversed and Stocking now staring down the blackness of the barrel.

"Uh?" Was all he could say.

And then with a resounding explosion of noise, that same blackness was all he knew, as clustered metal pellets fired at high speeds did what they did best to human heads.

Blood and worse splattered all over the area behind Stocking, including on the three remaining robbers, who jerked in surprise as one of their fellows abruptly became a corpse.

"…Heh heh heh heh heh…" White Hole cackled with an underside of a growl, as she licked what blood had sprayed far enough to land on her face off. "Fuck your cousin."

And with that, the man who had made sure that events had come to this withdrew his influence, even as the full realization of where they were and what was happening hit the would be robbers, and left them with only one thing: absolute panic.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ski Mask screamed, as his finger jerked down on the trigger…

The White Hole was faster, as she snapped out her hand, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and jerked it slightly up and to her left, so the gun was positioned over her shoulder. A moment later the bar filled with even more fearsome noise as the machine gun began spewing hot lead into the bottles behind the White Hole. You'd think having a firing machine gun right next to your ear when they were as pronounced as they were on the White Hole would be uncomfortable to say the least, but if it was the White Hole seemed perfectly capable of ignoring it, as she grinned widely, showing fearsome teeth.

"Now what kind of a metaphor shall we apply to this situation, shall we? Premature ejaculation, or impotence?" The White Hole taunted, as Ski Mask found himself both unable to stop holding down the trigger nor move the gun so his bullets did something beside shoot bottles and a wall. It was like the gun was locked in place, as the White Hole completely ignored the heat of the barrel (metal hands probably helped), as she prepared to wait for the clip to finally run out so she could crush the barrel with her immense strength (which was why Ski Mask 1 couldn't move his gun at all) and then do far more interesting things to Ski Mask 1 himself. As for why she didn't just crush the barrel right then and there, well, crushing a gun while it was firing could sometimes lead to the abrupt detonation of said gun, and at that range it was possible that the shrapnel could actually do some damage to her…

Unfortunately, delaying crushing the gun allowed Ski Mask 2 to get a bead on her, and with a snorting groan of disgust she let go of the barrel and ducked behind the bar even as the shotgun boomed over her head, as Ski Mask 1 stumbled back, his balance interrupted by suddenly finding his gun free again.

And with a scream of utter terror, as the mental prodding within his mind was no longer there and keeping it repressed, Hockey Mask opened fire with his own submachine gun, even as Ski Mask 1 got his own gun back up and started firing it again, and the bar officially turned into _The Wild Bunch._

Perhaps the villains should have made more of an effort then they had to subdue the men, as most of them (well, the ones that weren't bulletproof anyway) now found themselves needing to briefly dive for cover (or in Puppet King's case, just dive on the ground and cover your head, as if by doing so the problem would cease to exist). But they'd made their own beds.

Indeed, one of the few who didn't hit the ground or take cover behind something was Killjoy, and even as bullets began whizzing all around him he slowly transferred the shotgun he had 'borrowed' from the now deceased Stocking from his right hand to his left, as he grimaced, just a tad, and rotated his right shoulder even as he flexed the muscles on his right arm. Firing a shotgun one-handed wasn't exactly pleasant for the muscles.

And the sole other who didn't move was the man named Simon Jones, aka Psimon, as he sat in his chair and laughed in a low tone, a shield of telekinetic energy in front of him to block any bullets that went his way, power from his incredibly strong mind, the same mind that had reached into the mind of the robbers and subconsciously influenced them to act as they had, ignoring where they were and smarter moves like fleeing, until it had come to this.

It was one way to break the tedium of an otherwise boring October 30th, Psimon mused, as he sat back to watch the chaos.

Nightwalker ducked down behind the counter, as Slade, his daughter, and his apprentice pushed themselves away from it, all of them moving in an almost artful manner, as they dove for a nearby empty table, pushed it over, and positioned themselves behind in such a way that, while they were technically retreating, one certainly didn't get that impression.

"Ewwugh! Father! That piece of shit was staring at me!" Rose said, as she yanked her mask up and over her head (though unfortunately the sudden need to do this didn't let her tie up her hair properly, leaving it sticking out of the mask in a few places and really ruining the image of what Rose was: an assassin and warrior almost as deadly as her father, Slade, aka Deathstroke the Terminator), as she switched into the mindset of the Ravager and yanked her own personal gun free from her leg holder.

"Language Rose. Yes I noticed that myself. Something must be done about that." Slade said, as he snapped his produced from somewhere faceplate on, hiding his aged but strong features behind a mask of black and orange.

"Shall I reduce him to a fine mist, Slade-sama?" Kurai said, as red energy exploded on his hands. Unlike his master and his master's daughter, Kurai's powers lay in a generational talent of his family that allowed the harnessing of immensely destructive energy powers.

"Not just yet Kurai…" Slade replied, as bullets bit into the wood of the table. Good wood, to block the shots. Slade would have to make sure to compliment the owners.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ski Mask 2 screamed, as he tried to aim down and shoot the White Hole, but he had no experience with guns and hence just fired into the counter, which didn't do much good as he spun to his left.

And found Jack Djinn standing there, grinning. His code name may have been Asphyxiation, but he preferred to live his namesake for the pretty birdies. For the rest, anything would do.

"I'd say g'day. Except it's not." Jack smirked, and even as Ski Mask 2 aimed his shotgun Jack's fingers of red energy abruptly transformed into claws of red energy that he slashed down, slicing straight through the gun and most of Ski Mask 2's fingers.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ski Mask 2 screamed, as he looked at his newly ruined hands, blood squirting from the severed digits.

"For you anyway." Jack said, as his hand shifted and morphed again, as Jack tried to decide what to make. A drill? A hammer? Perhaps a pitchfork…

Except he never got the chance to use anything, as the White Hole reared back up from behind the bar, sank her claws into Ski Mask 2's shoulders, and yanked him back over the counter.

"Now…you said I'm a freak?" The White Hole hissed, as any good humor or oddness in her anger gave way to her natural state of seething, savage fury. "Well, I am who I am. But you, human, could stand to lose some weight. Let me help."

The tortured screams that followed from behind the bar seemed unlike anything a human throat could make. Jack stared for a moment, still surprised (and apparently, like Killjoy, unconcerned about the firepower being loosed not ten feet from him), and then he stepped in and started leaning over the counter.

"Hey! That was my kill you just nicked Be-"

Jack never actually saw where the blood came from, just that it was coming at high speed, as it sprayed into his face, and he staggered back, sputtering as the hot liquid ran down his face and chest. He blinked the blood out of his eyes, even as he looked at where it came from, as more sprayed into the air, soaking the counter in front of him.

"Uh, on second thought, be my guest." Jack said, as he walked away. He picked up his shotglass…and then noticed that some of the spraying blood (which was still coming, what the hell? The human body did have a fair bit of blood, but not ten gallons under high pressure! There was some physical or physiological error there!) had gotten in his drink.

He considered that for a second, then downed it anyway. Hey, he'd paid good money.

"Hmmmm, bit of a tang." Jack commented.

Doctor Westminster blinked, having seen all this from where he crouched by his barstool to take cover from the firepower, even as bullets flew, blood sprayed, and crazy Australians drank alcohol with blood in it despite them not being vampires.

"If this is a casual night here, perhaps I should reconsider this profession!" Doctor Westminster said, as he tried to reach up and grab the painkillers he'd left on the counter before they got bloodsoaked (they didn't grow on trees after all!)

In a way, Ski Mask 1 and Hockey Mask should have been proud: they'd managed to make more villains duck and cover then the Titans ever had. Then again, this wasn't an accomplishment they would live down, as the two of them finally realized that standing still was probably counterproductive and ran for it…of course since they were in a blind panic, neither of them ran for someplace smart, like say, THE DOOR.

They didn't stop firing though, as more bullets tore into walls, tables, and the like, as a fair bit of villains finally decided they were pissed off and got ready to counter-attack.

"Hold it! You'll just end up shooting each other! Let me handle it!" Slade called, as the bullets kept flying.

As the door to the Sorceress' office finally flew up, the racket too much for even her magic sound dampening spells.

"By Merlin's beard what is going on out-YOW!" The Sorceress yelped as she suddenly found a group of bullets dying to make her acquaintance, but she was faster then they were, as with a wave of her hand a shield of shimmering power formed before her, stopping the bullets in their tracks. "What have you been doing while I was busy with paperwork!"

"Nothing of our own wills, m'lady!" Slade replied: he didn't have respect for many things, but the Sorceress could turn him into a toad with a glance if she felt like it, so for his own sake he at least acted courteous to her.

"Oh I swear…!" The Sorceress said, as she turned and went back into her office. "Fix it! Yesterday!"

The door slammed behind her.

"All right Rose, enough of this; let's deal with the one by the bar." Slade said.

"As you wish father." The Ravager replied.

"Kurai, small focused blasts. No need for anything larger." Slade said.

"_Hai!"_

And so, Hockey Mask found that when he swung his spraying sub-machine gun away that maybe random fire wasn't the best way to handle some situations, as Slade, Rose, and Kurai reared up from behind the table…

Even as Doctor Light shot a blast of his own at Ski Mask 1…except he missed, and the blaze of light hit a wall near Hockey Mask and exploded, suddenly filling the three's vision with light, which messed up their aim.

Hence, instead of being riddled, Hockey Mask had the 'fortune' of only suffering one hit, to the shoulder, as he screamed and stumbled back, hitting the counter and then falling over it as the three ducked behind the table again to clear the spots blinking in their vision.

"DAMN IT! ARTHUR! I SAID WE'D HANDLE IT!" Slade yelled. Doctor Light would have replied…except he was hiding behind his overturned table as Ski Mask 1 riddled it. True, he probably had some power that would have effectively defended against the bullets…but when a gun was aimed in his face Dr. Light didn't think very well in a tactical sense (and speaking of which, why hadn't Ski Mask 1 run out of bullets yet? How big was the clip in his gun? Sometimes new technology could be so annoying, Slade mused…). Ski Mask 1, in perhaps his smartest move of the night, didn't stand and fire much longer though, as he spied an exit from the room on one side of the bar, and he took it, running backwards while firing one last spray and screaming in anger/fear (mostly the latter).

A moment after he ran through the door, the young woman who had been sitting right next to it got back up on her seat and resumed drinking, as if nothing had happened. Talk about going with the flow.

Hockey Mask didn't have such an opportunity though, as he'd fallen behind the counter, the pain in his shoulder shooting through him as he landed, but he had enough sense to try and get straightened up…even as he felt the slick mess beneath his hands, of spilled alcohol and shattered glass…and blood, so much blood, as Hockey Mask looked up from the floor…and at the White Hole, covered from head to foot in the red stuff, the torn remains of what had once been Ski Mask 2 in her hands.

"Gragmph." The White Hole murmured in animalistic annoyance as she saw Hockey Mask's fear seize him, as he aimed his still-in-his possession sub-machine gun at her.

"AIYEEEEEEAHHHHH!" Hockey Mask screamed, as he fired at the alien, but she was too quick, as she leapt from and away from the body, as the bullets tore into Ski Mask 2's savagely mutilated corpse, as the White Hole leapt onto the counter, a tangled something or other clutched in her hand.

"Damn!" White Hole yelled, as Hockey Mask followed her up, and she was forced to leap across the whole bar to escape the bullets. And she'd so wanted another kill to slake her frustration. Well, maybe yet, as Hockey Mask stood up and raked the bar, still trying to shoot the White Hole, and White Hole was forced to duck behind yet another uprooted table.

She found herself sharing the space with a villain called the Handyman, who looked stunned at the bloodsoaked alien…and at the raw pink hide dangling from one of her clawed hands. In her terms, the White Hole had helped Ski Mask 2 lose weight by skinning him alive.

"Hello." The White Hole said, as the Handyman realized just WHAT the bloody hide hanging from the White Hole's hand was.

"OH GOD YOU'RE GONNA SKIN ME TOO AND WEAR ME LIKE A SUIT IN THAT MOVIE, WATCHACALLIT, SPACE BALLS!" The Handyman screamed. The White Hole raised an eyebrow.

"Um…no. I'm going to sit here until the bullets stop." The White Hole said.

"THEN WHERE THE HELL DID YOU THAT !$#$#$! HUMAN SKIN?"

"From the body I would be continuing to do unpleasant by most terms things if that guy hadn't fallen over and started shooting at me…wait, why was THAT curse censored?' The White Hole said. "Asshole. Fuck. Shit. Cocksucker. Ok really, why did that happen?"

The Handyman just kept looking on the White Hole with sick fear. The White Hole was actually getting tired of it: why did so many of her so called fellows seem so controlled by what they feared?

"Look, it's not my fault the only thing keeping your innards from harm is a 1/8 inch thick sheet of oily pink paper." The White Hole said, thrusting the skin in the Handyman's face to indicate it. "That's what happened to YOUR species by evolution, and I'm hardly to blame if I can thresh you like wheat because of it."

"Uhhhhhhhh…ok, ok. Don't panic…wait, here because of the bullets…which means if they stop shooting, I can get away from that disembodied skin!" The Handyman said, as he yanked out his own form of submachine gun, which in according to his villain gimmick was a nailgun…except on steroids, a nail-Uzi if you would. "Suppressive fire time! ROCK AND ROLL, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

And the Handyman popped up and sprayed the surrounding area with sharp nails, as they hammered into the walls, the bar counter, and almost into a few villains who yelled angry curses…but not a single one went into Hockey Mask, because while he and the White Hole had been talking, he'd ducked behind the bar to reload.

"…Wow! I shot them so well, they vaporized!" The Handyman said.

"My hero." The White Hole said, with sarcasm that was deeper then any spot in the Mariana Trench.

"Well done Handyman." Slade commented from behind his own table. "It's good to know that in the heat of battle, you're ready, willing, and able to serve us if we suddenly have a need for radical carpentry."

"Hey…!" The Handyman snapped in return…

And unfortunately, Slade probably should have focused on Hockey Mask instead of making a comment at the Handyman's expense, as it allowed Hockey Mask to reload his gun despite his injury and overwhelming fear, and with that he popped up and with another scream raked the area with fire again, forcing Handyman to dive back down behind the table.

"Note to self: bring more then one clip of ammo next time." He said.

"Plus an explanation on that random censor." The White Hole muttered, as she waited for the terrified gunman to run out of ammo.

Once again, Hockey Mask's luck held out, as no villain vaporized him on the spot while he was firing, which was probably due to Slade signaling for them not to, as Hockey Mask ducked behind the bar again, his feet slipping on the mess beneath his feet. He yanked one of the handguns he had out, stuck it over the bar, and fired it blindly for several shots before he yanked it down, thinking it would protect him as he tried to get another clip of ammo in his main gun.

"Shall I just blast the bar and him into oblivion, Slade-sama?" Kurai asked.

"Come now Kurai, inconveniences aside, he is but a rabbit. No need to use a cannon. Additionally, we are guests here, and it would be highly impolite to raze the place." Slade said.

"Not to mention he'd probably bring the place down on our heads." Rose commented.

"Why Rose-chan, you were willing to tear out your own eye but yet are afraid of a little mortar and property damage? Your priorities are messed up."

"I'll mess YOU up you…!" Rose threatened as she aimed the gun at Kurai.

"Rose, Kurai, enough. Especially now." Slade said, his voice forever calm. "And Kurai, I am not concerned of the collapsing building. More of the owners, including the angry one in the office who reduced a city to fine powder with a gesture, and what she might do."

"As you wish Slade-sama. Though I still…" Kurai said, and then was interrupted by Hockey Mask popping up and wasting more ammo, as all of his targets either didn't care about the bullets or were protected from them. Judging from the look in Slade's lone eye though, he was getting tired of it himself.

"You may as well just give it up young man." Slade called as Hockey Mask popped back behind the bar: this time his gun had jammed and he was frantically trying to undo this fact.

"FUCK YOU!" Hockey Mask screamed.

"Ah, suicidal bravado, how many young men have I known that was claimed by it?" Slade mused. "You are eventually going to run out of ammo."

"I'LL KILL YOU FIRST!"

"Unlikely." Slade said.

"And even if you somehow did, I'm gonna kill you for eyeballing me!" Rose yelled.

"Oh right, the ultimate crime." Kurai commented: Rose glared at him.

"We all have our reasons, young man!" Slade said, as he finally saw a way to end this annoying deadlock. "I'm afraid mine are better, and better backed up! When your ammo runs dry, I won't be any less annoyed by this whole fracas, not to mention your inappropriate appraisals of my daughter…"

"I WAS NOT FUCKING STARING AT YOUR DAUGHTER!" Hockey Mask screamed from behind the bar, and furiously tried to unjam his gun again.

"Oh? Well that doesn't really matter in the end young man because you now have about two seconds to live!" Slade said. "Rose, prepare a flare. Kurai, there are still numerous bottles of alcohol placed above and behind him. Very low powered, small blasts, shoot the bottles."

"I fail to see the point, but as you command master." Kurai said, as he flexed the fingers on his right hand as the tip of his primary finger began to glow, as Rose hunted for the flare.

The gun was still jammed, and Hockey Mask was about to abandon it and go with his handgun when Kurai popped up and began firing rapidly, with great aim, as the bottles of alcohol shattered one after the other, raining down on Hockey Mask as he yelled and gasped, soaked by the contents of the bottles…

As Rose lit her flare, and with a wicked grin as she realized what her father was doing, she hurled it over the table in an overhand toss.

Hockey Mask looked up as he saw the green burning stick fall towards him.

Perhaps in his last seconds he realized just what had happened.

A flare was very hot.

And alcohol, as you probably know, was flammable.

The bar erupted in flames as the fuel caught and swiftly ignited, and an agonized scream came from behind it, as bad as the ones Ski Mask 2 had made, as White Hole cursed that she was stuck with one scapegoat.

"Ah, I see Slade-sama! Very appropriate! However did you think of it?" Kurai said.

"Saw it in a movie." Slade said, as he started getting up.

And then Hockey Mask, shrieking in sheer torment, lunged over the bar, all afire but still moving, as Slade turned his head and looked as he finished getting up, his action mirrored by Rose.

"I think this was in it too. I wish I'd remembered that part." Slade said, and lunged to the side as Hockey Mask staggered past and away from them, fire dripping from his body as ignited alcohol fell off his flaming form. Slade had instinctively put his own gun away when the fire had started, and now he found he needed it again before the poor fool set someone else on fire and that someone blamed Slade for it…

As the door to the office opened, and the Sorceress stormed out again (well, kinda/sorta: it was difficult to storm out as the concept was when one was always floating off the ground).

"Have you still not settled this…oh for the love of, now someone's on fire." The Sorceress said, and lifted a hand.

None of the villains never really saw what happened: one moment the flaming torch that had been Hockey Mask was yelling and screaming…and the next a mass of flaming wet DUST that had ONCE been Hockey Mask slammed into the wall opposite of where he had been.

As fragile as we sometimes seemed, it took an immense amount of force to utterly pulverize a human being. The Sorceress had done it by pointing at someone.

"…I begin to see why you show some deference master." Kurai said.

"I swear, you people, I should start charging a cover." The Sorceress said.

"…Well, that's three down. I call the last one!" The White Hole said as she got up.

"There's ANOTHER one? Still alive? For crying out loud! Is this the Brotherhood of Evil or the Brotherhood of Morons?" The Sorceress complained.

"Do not insult my fellows by insinuating all of this lot is among our ranks still." The Brain said.

"Oh look, the Brain." The Sorceress said, and lifted her arm. The Brain found himself being lifted up too, and Monsieur Mallah found much to his surprise he could not leap to his master's defense: indeed he couldn't move at all. "This is the Brain on magic. ANY QUESTIONS?"

"No." The Brain said, and was dropped down to where he had been before.

"Where's the last one? And where's the idiot that let them in here in the first place?" The Sorceress said.

Ski Mask 1 had been making good his escape…in a sense. Still in a blind panic, he had stumbled down the hallway, constantly firing behind him to ward off any pursuit (when there actually hadn't been any at all!), which had greatly reduced the distance he would have covered if he had done something else like outright ran, which ended when he finally exhausted the bullets in his machine gun. He'd dropped it and fled, and after rounding a corner, he'd found another door. Thank god, an exit!

That was locked.

Ski Mask shot it several times. Then it was no longer locked, as Ski Mask opened the door…

And found himself staring at a being that seemed ten feet tall, with limbs like tree trunks and a body like a steam engine, all of it carved out of pure granite with a small round plug like head at the top.

"OH SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!" Ski Mask 1 screamed, as he turned and ran back into the villain café.

"…Not…right…entrance?" The giant said, his words coming slow and dull. "Did Brick…use wrong way…again?"

Still yelling, Ski Mask 1 rounded around the corner and ran back down the hallway…and came to a shrieking stop as he realized just WHY HE HAD RUN AWAY IN THE FIRST PLACE, as he stopped in the doorway and stared in terror at all the villains who were now mostly standing up…and looking at him.

"Ah! Ah! Ah…" Ski Mask 1 gasped…and then her saw her, sitting just to his left. She hadn't seen him, as she just sat there, drinking like nothing had happened.

As Ski Mask 1 grabbed her around the neck with his arm and yanked her off her seat, as he put his gun to her head.

"All right nobody move or I cap the-!" Ski Mask 1 yelled.

And that was all he got to yell, as orange fingers suddenly seized the arm gripping her and crushed it like it was make of wet paper, as Ski Mask 1 let out a high shriek, the pain so sudden he even forgot to fire his gun, as Blackfire turned to him, her eyes flashing in rage. True, she'd utterly ignored everything that had happened so far, to the point where it seemed like she didn't even realize what was going on or that she was affected by it, but why would she? She'd been in some of the seediest, nastiest 'bars' across the universe, and been witness to things you would never believe. Robbers breaking in and spraying lead everywhere? To her, that was boring.

But then the idiot had gone and touched her, and that was when she stopped ignoring it.

As she half-threw, half-shoved Ski Mask 1 away from her, as he flew a few feet and then stumbled several more…and smacked right into Doctor Westminster, scattering his finally collected pills on the ground again.

"…Oh this is just too MUCH!" Dr. Westminster exploded, and then he literally exploded, in a sense, as his body tensed and then a spray of sharp bone spurs shot out of his body, like a porcupine on steroids (and yes technically porcupines could not LAUNCH their needles but you know what I mean), the blades of marrow and periosteum lancing out and plunging into Ski Mask's 1's chest, arms, and neck, one impaling through his cheek, a nightmare piercing.

His screams died off to a dull whimper, as Ski Mask 1 staggered back…

"Is it over yet?" Puppet King said as he finally looked up from where he lay.

As Ski Mask 1 tripped over Puppet King, stumbling back and falling on the ground.

With a few more dull whimpers, as he saw the remaining villains begin to approach him, Ski Mask 1 slid back on his elbows, heading back towards the door he had entered an eternity ago…

As a shadow fell over him.

Ski Mask looked up and behind him.

As the Lord of the Night, the owner of the bar, and the genocidal demi-god that had caused the Titans more pain then perhaps anybody (though there were several names in the actual running for that), stood over him, as he lifted his hand and dropped the shotgun pellets that had been used to blow his head apart on the ground. But the Lord was living darkness: blowing his head up just annoyed him for a bit while he put it back together.

The pellets clinked on the floor.

As darkness surged out from the Lord's hand and formed into a four-foot barbed katana.

"And since my barmaid left it out, FUCK YOU TOO!"

And he slashed the sword down

**_AIYEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_**

* * *

"…Oh great, we're trying to set up horror villains as the bad guys and you pull this shit?" 

_**SHUT UP CONTROL FREAK.**_

* * *

**LEGEND MAKER PRESENTS…**

**With aid in composing by Bobcat, Jedi-And, Prisionero, and Risen-Corruption**

_("Nobody lives…you get what you give…")_

**BOOGEYMEN III:**

**HOUSE OF 1000 CLICHES**

_**THIS IS THE HOUSE, COME ON IN.**_

_**THIS IS THE HOUSE, BUILT ON SIN.**_

(Blood explodes all over the screen)

* * *

Perhaps some of you have never heard of the Lord of the Night. Understandable, as he was not in the show, or in DC Comics. 

And we know as little of him as most of the heroes in this fictional world do, as he literally came from nowhere, a murderous and vicious vigilante, armed with a katana and a clawed mechanical arm, among other devices and talents. While many of the villains of Jump City thought small (rob a bank, steal some jewels, etc), even when it came to worse crimes (kill them one at a time, or when paid to), even the ones who had grand dreams (conquer the world) often could not match the Lord, for he didn't just want the world: he wanted everyone who he thought didn't deserve to live dead and buried. And that was pretty much…everyone in the world. The Lord didn't just think big, he thought bad as well.

To accomplish this, he had performed a forbidden ritual, and made his namesake a reality, a literal lord of the night, commanding darkness as a weapon and as a power in and of itself. He became godlike…and yet still lost.

Indeed, that was the sole shared trait of all the villains in this bar, from the robbers to the conquerors, from the psychopaths to the assassins, from the warriors to the nigh-deities.

The Teen Titans had bested every last one.

No wonder the Lord had opened up a bar (well it was a café but most referred to it as a bar). There were probably a lot of sorrows to drown.

Besides, this isn't wholly serious anyway (and this is the last time I'm saying that), so you can fiddle with story aspects like that to make them more believable.

And so we return to Moriarty's, just after the Lord had finished with the man who had shot him in the face when he'd gone to answer the door. Technically they should have never gotten in the door in the first place, but the Lord had finally become fed up with the incompetence of his bouncers and showed them the door, which meant since he was in a nearby room doing some inventory and thinking over his latest set of plans (and waving through Doctor Westminster), the Lord had answered the door. He'd been thinking too deeply and actually let someone get the drop on him because of it, a true rarity, but since the magic he had harnessed had long transformed his flesh and blood (and cybernetic limb) into living shadow, getting your head blown up wasn't much of a problem for him.

Still, a mere four humans had briefly inconvenienced him, requiring him to reform his body while the idiots shot up his bar (and just WHY that had been allowed to happen the Lord would get to in a second). So he'd taken his pound of flesh, as he yanked his sword from the horrific mess Ski Mask 1's body had become. While to an outside viewer it had seemed the Lord had just sliced him once, in reality the Lord had at that moment stepped out of time, dragging Ski Mask 1 with him, at which point the Lord had done unspeakable things to him for oh, a few weeks, and then stepped back into time with what was left. Hey, he was a shadow GOD after all.

"Now…" The Lord said, as the barbed katana drifted back into the misty blackness it had come from, even as Ski Mask 1's body began dissolving into black ash. "Would someone please tell me why four morons with guns were able to last more then TWO SECONDS with this group?"

"Uh well um/was busy/can't say…" Was the general mumbled result as the villains began breaking up and returning to their tables.

"Oy, shadow-man, why are you puttin' the blame on us? Your security is shite! Everyone's got a gun!" Mad Mod complained.

"So by the basis of such a statement, you TOO have a gun, Mr. Richards?" The Lord asked.

"I'm the Mad Mod you rotter! Don't forget it! And I would never soil my hands with something as crude and unrefined as a gun…" Mad Mod began boasting…which trailed off as he suddenly found the Lord's katana back from the shadows that had claimed, now five feet long and a few inches from Mad Mod's chest.

"Then I would say you are at even more of a disadvantage in this current situation then you would even be in normal terms, The Mad Mod." The Lord said. "And don't bother with any perception warping tricks that you may have concealed in your cane or elsewhere. My mind doesn't function like a human brain any more, and is no longer vulnerable to the paramnesia that can be played on those who know how to do it. Now I suggest you sit down and be quiet, or else you may find that when your latest youth drain charge from your cane is expended, your true self will have come to be afflicted with Alzheimer's and chronic incontinence."

Mad Mod visibly gulped.

Fortunately for him, the tension was broken as the gigantic man Ski Mask 1 had fled from into his gruesome doom entered the room…by pretty much utterly destroying the doorframe as he entered from the hallway. Hey, he'd TRIED to slip through it…but he was just too damn big, as the walls and ceilings around the door twisted and warped from the giant body being forced through the small space.

Everyone stared at him, as tiny bits of the ceiling fell on his head and shoulders.

"Uh…wrong…door?" The giant man said.

"YES!" Was the yelled response of pretty much everyone in the bar.

"…Oh." The giant man replied.

"Oh for the love of Newton, Brick, I can't take you anywhere!" Came a voice behind the giant, and a few seconds later a much smaller man slipped around him. He was clad in high tech mechanical armor that seemed to have a bird theme, with a rather pale face that had a beard and angular mustache combo that honestly made one wonder if the man wearing the armor got his grooming tips from "How To Be A Stereotypical Villain". "There is a reason I don't pay you for your brains! And speaking of which, if they ask for payment for repairs, it's coming out of your part of the profits of whatever items we peculate next!"

"Uh…pec…uuu…late…?" Brick said, apparently still wondering where the right door was, let alone what that word meant.

"Ugh. Peregrine, get him out of the way! Put him someplace where he won't slow down our repairs! Gragghhhh!" The Lord said in general frustration. He'd worn all black back when he'd been a vigilante, and when he'd become a shadow god he hadn't changed his style, adapting a series of fancy black outfits/robes/capes. While in the bar though, he usually wore a business suit…so it looked pretty weird when he started using his powers.

Like he was doing now, as he pointed to the body of Stocking and quickly vaporized it into nothing.

"What are you standing around for? Clean up, repair, get this place back so it doesn't look like a damn demilitarized zone!" The Lord said, as he headed over to the Sorceress. "And why, Ithlian, did you not pop these annoying twits into another dimension?"

"You want me to waste high level magic on them? That Raven girl may be underdeveloped and inferior, but she can still sense such things! It would be like putting a giant arrow on this place saying 'WE ARE HERE'." The Sorceress snapped.

"Fine! Never mind! Just help clean up!"

"Excuse me? I am your partner John, not one of the lessers who you trick or forcibly coerce into working in this location. You do not tell me what to do." The Sorceress said.

"Fine, fine, fine, FINE! PLEASE go assist in the clean-up, we NEED your amazing talents to do stuff like say, reformat all the wasted alcohol and drinks now on the floor and everywhere else mixed in with other unpleasantness back into magically reassembled bottles. Is that too much to ask?"

"Try it without the sarcasm."

"Oh go take a hike! And stop calling me John!"

"But you won't give your name so that makes you John Doe…"

"SHUT UP!" The Lord said as he stormed off. He quickly spotted the White Hole, who still looked cross at only getting one kill…or maybe that was because the Handyman, instead of fleeing, was now talking to her.

"So, what do you do with the skin after you wear it around the house? Make the person in your pit put the lotion on its skin, or make them eat their own brain?" The Handyman asked.

"…Were you not terrified of me a minute ago?" The White Hole replied, unable to understand what this human was talking about.

"Oh yes. But I've moved onto the third stage of terror: mockery and humor!" The Handyman said.

"…What stage will get you away from me as swiftly as possible?"

"Stage left?"

Off to the side, Puppet King performed a rimshot on a set of drums.

"You know what, forget it, I'll just rip out your he-"

"Styles!" The Lord called, and the White Hole looked away.

"Speaking of which…" The Handyman said, who swiftly realized his luck was running thin and got while the going was good.

"Styles, go change! I'm not running a slaughterhouse here!"

"Are you sure?" The White Hole said.

"Yes! Go change!"

The White Hole slouched off, clearly unhappy at her blood-spilling being so abruptly ended, as she headed into the back.

"Adonis, take her place at the bar, clean up, and serve until she comes back!" The Lord ordered, and then noticed Peregrine was approaching him with a metal briefcase.

"Inkeep, I will be having a meeting of the minds, perhaps quite literally, with the Brain and his little group of grotesques. I wish to invoke the service you provide and entrust the funds with you to ensure there is no…monkey business." Peregrine said, glancing briefly at Monsieur Mallah.

"What a clever pun. You spend all night thinking that up?"

"Do not disrespect me you satanic dabbler!"

"Not all dark magic is linked to hell Peregrine. And if you want false chic everywhere, go to Grodd's." The Lord said, as he took the briefcase. "They have also entrusted their own funds, whatever they may be at the moment, in my care, just so you know. And if you disagree, try not to start a fight. I am in no mood." The Lord said, and walked away. "Ithlian!"

"Stop calling me that!" The Sorceress said, as she looked away from where she was levitating the many pieces of smashed bottles back together while at the same time separating the liquors and other aqua vitaes from the blood and assorted visceral liquids that had been spilled in the firefight and placing them back into the bottles to be laid back on the shelves. How did she accomplish this insanely complicated task? She was the Sorceress. That was all. "Or shall I reveal your true name to everyone within hearing range?"

"Fine. Here's money from Peregrine. Go put it in the safe and add it to the books you so seem to love scribbling in."

"It's not a pastime for my enjoyment 'John', it's the only way this bar is still running." The Sorceress said, as she finished up her reassembly work, took the briefcase, and floated back to her office.

"Stop calling me…wait a minute, Inkeep?" The Lord said.

Nightwalker, having been spared most of the bloodshed that the White Hole had unleashed on Ski Mask 2 (and the discovering of whose corpse currently had Adonis vomiting…somewhere, she'd lost sight of him), was examining her drink to make absolutely sure no foreign substances had entered it (unlike Jack, sitting at the blood-soaked bar and throwing back a pint of Jack Daniels, she did not care to ingest such materials) when she suddenly sensed movement, a moment before someone sat down beside her.

"Hey there baby. Come here often?" Control Freak asked.

A moment later he found Nightwalker's gauntlet, which launched small marble like orbs at immensely high speeds (sometimes containing unpleasant surprises like explosives or acid), firmly jammed against his face and nearly up his nose.

"Right, gotcha, no ASL." Control Freak said, and grinned sheepishly. The gauntlet remained firmly pressed on his face, Nightwalker's normally lovely face now crossed with a look of firm distaste. "Please? That's just how I talk. You've made it clear it won't fly! I can behave! Really!"

"I have my doubts." Nightwalker said, as she withdrew her weapon, albeit only a bit. "What do you want Control Freak? We don't exactly run in the same circles."

"Oh you insult me and yourself lovely…I mean Nightwalker." Control Freak said, as Nightwalker's eyes glared at him again. "I can't even give you harmless compliments?"

"I know your breed. I know how your lives tend to go and how it can influence your thoughts. Forgive me for not giving you the benefit of the doubt." Nightwalker said tersely.

"We're not all like that!"

"What would you think if our positions were reversed?"

"...Touché." Control Freak said, and glanced around at the still being repaired damage. "It appears I missed a bit of entertainment."

"Oh yeah, it was a blast." Nightwalker said. "Get to your point Control Freak. We don't, as I just said, tend to run in the same circles."

"What? Are we both not mighty supervillains, the scourge of the righteous and the just?"

"You're not a scourge of anything, and as for being a supervillain, don't hoist that label on me just because I have spent much of my recent life walking in your world. I don't know if I belong, and I really have no desire to stay." Nightwalker said. "Point, or leave. Or be forced to leave."

"Ok, fine." Control Freak said. "In honor of tonight, I want to see if you want to go out and raise some hell."

"I've seen enough hellraising for one night…wait, it's just October 30th Control Freak. You're a day early."

"Oh no! You see, October 30th in some parts of is known as 'Mischief Night', where kids go out and play pranks on adults. I'm trying to both get a foothold for such a thing here in the States and to show kids how to REALLY make mischief!" Control Freak said.

"…You, Control Freak…who I have heard are a very accomplished technosorcerer, whatever that is…"

"YES! MASTER OF MONSTERS! THE…!" Control Freak declared as he started to pose…and actually found the gauntlet jammed up his nose this time. "Heh. Done. Done!"

"And yet you'd waste your time throwing eggs at houses and toilet paper over trees. Even as a villain…and a geek…really man, act your age, not your shoe size."

Control Freak looked deeply disappointed and stung by her words, but Nightwalker didn't feel much sympathy for him. One was responsible for their own choices and where they led. She knew that very well, as she turned back to her drink. Control Freak sighed, and turned to the bar as well. Looking distastefully at the specks of blood on the counter, he pulled out his remote and pressed a button.

The blood specks vanished. Nightwalker's eyes slid over to this fact, and noticing the movement, Control Freak twirled his remote and blew on it.

"Impressed?" He asked.

"…Hmmm." Was all the answer Nightwalker would give him: it was notable, she guessed.

Unfortunately, as she realized, she had, in the way some people desperate for human contact and utterly oblivious on how to proper get it, given Control Freak a go-ahead to start talking again.

"So, I must have gotten a boost in the threat status recently, because I've heard the Titans have been looking for me all October! It's about time they realized how dangerous I truly am! Oh they tried hard to find me, but I am Control Freak! I am like the Shadow! I cloud men's minds…!" Control Freak babbled. Nightwalker groaned inwardly and wondered if the potential guilt she would feel would eventually be surpassed by her aggravation and she really would shoot Control Freak in the head.

"Komand'r. Been some time since we saw you around here." The Lord said as he approached Blackfire, who had sat down and continued drinking after crushing Ski Mask 1's arm.

"I spent some time tooling around the universe. Realized it sucked. Came back here. Realized it sucks here too. Trying to decide which place sucks more." Blackfire muttered, and threw back another shot (lots of people drinking out of shot glasses tonight it seemed). The Lord knew self-inflicted misery over the concept of your place in the world when he saw it and decided to move on. He didn't want to listen to Blackfire whine over her failings, or how she should be so much better then her sister, yet that was not the widely held opinion, and in any case the Lord had just see the utter mess that had once been Ski Mask 2 behind the bar and decided said mess needed to be cleaned up. That he did, which was as good as any reason to get away from Blackfire's whining. Or maybe she wasn't going to whine at all, the Lord didn't know or care. He had this place so that his 'fellows' could gather in safety, and ultimately said safety was only provided so that one day, maybe one of them, or a group of them, or maybe the Lord himself, could do away with the Titans. The Lord didn't much care who, as long as they were gone. The lone unity of the group: the end of the Titans.

Next up was the newcomer, Doctor Westminster. Though the Lord had waved him in, that had just been through a cursory glance at the doctor's 'self', which the Lord had deemed proper to enter the bar. He didn't really notice much else, and hence when he approached he too quickly recognized Doctor Westminster as an unfamiliar face.

"You're new." The Lord said. Doctor Westminster snorted and tossed a few pills in his mouth.

"You planning on accusing me of being a spy as well?" Doctor Westminster said, as he chewed and swallowed, his water long gone in the chaos and Adonis, who was back from his illness, too busy cleaning up the blood with tools in his mech suit to get him more.

"Now who did that?" The Lord said. Westminster jerked his head in the direction of Jack Djinn. The Lord arched an eyebrow, wondering why Jack was behaving like that…it seemed oddly familiar that he might be paranoid that a spy was in the café, but why…or why now?

The Lord couldn't put his finger on it, and he didn't really care. If Jack caused trouble, he'd just throw him out. Then again with no bouncers he could just turn around and come back in when the Lord wasn't looking. Another irritant.

"Oh him. Forget him. He never had a huge amount of gray matter to begin with, and when he got powers to help him kill it addled his brain even more. I think some of the time even he doesn't realize just where his bloodlust leads. Still, watch it. He may lack sense, but not in the way so that he's not a threat. Even if you do seem to have a layer of bone over your skin." The Lord said.

"You noticed." Westminster replied: indeed, instead of the 'oily pink rag' that the White Hole had commented on earlier, Westminster's epidermis was a considerably more protective covering of bone.

Of course, such a thing was highly unnatural. This wasn't an exoskeleton like an insect would have, this was literally a covering of bone matter. Chances are it wasn't very comfortable to move around in even if it was set up so one could move. No wonder Westminster kept popping back painkillers. Though the whole 'bones shifting and morphing and coming out of the skin as weapons even as they're simultaneously replaced with new bones' probably had something to do with it. More then something. The Lord produced some water and a glass via his powers, set it down, and moved on. Westminster gave a slight nod, and went back to counting his pills.

The Lord didn't check on Jack, and there was no need to check on Killjoy. Killjoy never complained. Killjoy never said anything to begin with. If Killjoy was unhappy with something, he would just express it by shooting whatever was causing him trouble. Which was why the Lord no longer employed female human waitresses: even if he hypnotized them to not notice all the weirdness in the bar, inevitably they grew frustrated with Killjoy's non-speaking ways when it came to placing orders, and inevitably in turn that annoyed Killjoy and he shot them. Hence now whenever the Lord wasn't sure what Killjoy wanted he would just send Puppet King to check. Killjoy could shoot Puppet King all he wanted: he was enchanted wood, who gave a crap? Well, Puppet King, but he had always been the bar's whipping boy. Why? Who knew, it just happened. The Lord didn't do that now: Puppet King was probably currently trying to do some repairs while at the same time not catching the attention of his master, lest his master do something unpleasant to him. Besides him, Adonis was cleaning the bar, Sorceress was in her office doing whatever clerical tasks, and Punk Rocket…

Was running again, with another full tray of drinks.

And heading right for a big wet splatter of blood. Was he even looking where he was going? Goddamn stupid brain-dead remnant from the 80's…

"Hey…!" The Lord began yelling…

As Punk Rocket deftly leapt over the patch of wetness and presented the new tray of drinks to a table. He hadn't even managed to spill a drop.

Didn't lessen the Lord's aggravation. It figured. Instead of doing what he was told, he found a way to perfect his ignorance ie run so well he didn't spill the drinks. Well if he thought that got him off the hook he was very wrong…

And while Punk Rocket had refreshed one table's drinks, no one had replaced the ones Slade and his apprentices had been drinking before the gunfire had forced them away from the bar. In the end, only Kurai's remained, and while there was no blood IN it, it was all around it. Rose, her mask back down, wrinkled her nose in disgust over the concept of sitting there…until Kurai just sat back down and drank from his glass like it was nothing.

Perhaps not without meaning, as he glanced at Rose in such a way it couldn't have been wholly accidental.

"Something else wrong, Rose-chan?" Kurai asked.

"Yeah. You sitting down like nothing's happened." Rose said, even though with an annoyed look she realized her father was sitting down as well.

"I fail to see the problem."

"God, what is wrong with you Kurai? Killing is one thing, even by fire, but we just saw one man get skinned alive! His blood is all over the serving area! Yet you act like it's nothing!" Rose complained.

"So? I have seen blood spilled before, in quantities as great, if not greater." Kurai said, as he set his current drink down on a bloodsoaked coaster.

"But…"

"Pay no attention to it Rose." Slade commented, as he tried to get Adonis to come over and clean the blood from his section. "Kurai's cultural differences cause him to view things in a way that is often very different from others. Of course, his limited grasp of the English language at times doesn't help either."

"Does he do this all the time?" Rose asked, as Kurai finished his drink, not even noticing the blood streaking the lower part of the glass.

"Oh yes. You should see how he acts in movies…"

* * *

"…_till all are one…"_

_And the Matrix fell from Optimus Prime's hands._

_Moments later, the light in his eyes went out and the colors of his body faded. The greatest Autobot of all time had passed on from the mortal coil._

"……………_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

"Or in scenes that are supposed to be touching…"

* * *

"_I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope."_

"……………_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

"Or generally…well come to think of it, everything."

* * *

"_Now gentlemen, in this country our courts are the great levelers, and in our courts all men are created equal. I'm no idealist to believe firmly in the integrity of our courts and of our jury system. That's no ideal to me. That is a living, working reality. Now I am confident that you gentlemen will review without passion the evidence that you have heard, come to a decision, and restore this man to his family. In the name of God, do your duty. In the name of God, believe Tom Robinson."_

_"……………HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

"Geez Kurai. Is there ANYTHING you won't inappropriately laugh at?" Rose asked. 

"I protest that my choice of actions is not aberrant! Besides, there are films that do not affect me in such a way! Take that film_ Man Bites Dog_…"

* * *

_"Now, most serial killers only have their sound systems go up to ten on the dial. But I've modified mine so that it goes up to eleven. Just to show that I give 110 percent."_

_"__Couldn't you just make 11 10, and have the same power?"_

_"I'm afraid I don't follow."_

* * *

"…I think you're mixing up your movies." Rose said. 

"No, I'm sure I have it right... like when he got lost in the subways chasing that girl, and couldn't find his way out? So they had to cancel the concert?"

"Apprentice, that's _Spinal Tap_, not _Man Bites Dog_." Slade said.

"…Oh…wait. _Man Bites Dog_. That was just disturbing." Kurai said.

"Geez, good thing you're normal in some places Kurai. If that's how you act in serious moments I'd hate to see how you'd act in comedies."

"Oh, you'd be surprised Rose…" Slade said, and Rose could almost swear she saw a ghost of a smirk over her father's face.

* * *

_A jukebox suddenly began blaring. It was playing Queen's 'Don't Stop Me Now.'_

_"__Who the hell put this on!"_

_"__It's on random!"_

_"__For fuck's sake!"_

_"__David, kill the Queen!"_

_"__What?"_

_"__THE JUKEBOX!"_

_"I don't like this movie…" Kurai said, as he cringed back into his seat, occasionally covering his eyes_.

* * *

"…Kurai…you are immensely odd. I could say a lot more, but I'll leave it at that." Rose said, as Atlas finally cleaned up the blood on their section. 

"Well, it's not like you're needed. Slade-sama and I were doing perfectly fine before you showed up! See you around!" Kurai sarcastically snapped.

"Kurai…" Slade replied, his tone laced with warning.

"No Slade-Sama, it's not fair! Who went to all the trouble to keep your affairs in order and did his best to get you out of that coma? And then I go on an extended mission, and return, and find out you've been two-timing me? WITH YOUR OWN DAUGHTER? I thought I was your apprentice!"

"But you're not blood Kurai."

"…It's all because I didn't stab my eye out when you asked me to, isn't it." Kurai said tersely.

"Some of us understand loyalty." Rose said, indicating her white eyepatch that mirrored her father's.

"Some of us have stereoscopic vision." Kurai retorted.

"Are we all right here?" The Lord asked as he came to the three. "No injuries I would assume, for Slade and his trainees."

"It's perfectly fine." Slade said.

"New drink." Rose ordered.

"While your ability to guard your location is less then satisfactory, overall I will say it is sufficient, darkman-san." Kurai said, as the Lord narrowed his eyes at being told his security was rotten twice within five minutes. And once again not calling him the Lord.

"Must you use suffixes all the time? You're not in Japan any more." The Lord said.

"I do not respond violently when you insult me by not using the proper honorifics. You should not mind when I add them." Kurai replied. The Lord seemed amused.

"Right…Kurai?" The Lord said.

And then his eyes shot through with black, and Kurai, who could level a city single handedly (though it would take much more then a gesture from him) suddenly seized up and began violently shaking, as the Lord found certain points of the human brain and did the equivalent of poking them with a stick. Kurai's induced epilepsy only lasted a few seconds, but they were highly unpleasant seconds.

"You might want to consider the options 'violent response' and 'me' a little more thoroughly from now on." The Lord said, and walked on.

"Heh. Don't mess with the big dog in the yard Kurai." Rose said. Kurai ground his teeth.

"Well then, I guess I shall do what you say…asshole-sama." Kurai hissed under his teeth.

"I heard that." The Lord said.

With a yell Kurai was jerked off his stool, and without looking at him the Lord slammed him into the wall before ricocheting him wildly across the bar and off the wall, into the ceiling and into another wall, and so on as Kurai was bounced wildly all over the bar, forcing villains to duck and cover again (except Atlas, who just let Kurai bounce off him with a laugh).

"50,000 points." The Lord commented, and deposited a very dazed Kurai back in his seat. "Next time I actually use force."

And with that the Lord actually moved on, as Kurai quickly returned to his senses and glared daggers after the Lord.

"Why do we allow such mockery, Slade-sama? He should learn the dear cost of insulting ones such as us…!"

"Be calm Kurai. I know how hard it can be to stomach the realities of their sheer power. I've had to do some myself a few times." Slade said, as he picked up his refreshed drink and sipped from it. "But remember, as much as they claim and pride themselves on immortality, in the end that so called ruler of the dark and the rest of his demi-god ilk are as fleeting as the shadows they command. Claiming to rule the world one day, bested and forgotten the next. Let them have their power. In the end, we shall have the gravitas."

Maybe at another time, the Lord would have heard Slade's low-key dismissal of him and his ilk, but at the moment he had another task. Now that he'd done a rough check on all the customers and his employees were busy fixing things or replacing them (and Punk Rocket was running again, but even as the Lord opened his mouth to yell Punk Rocket zipped around two tables and dropped off another platter of drinks. Then he avoided running into Brick, who was standing next to the booth where Peregrine was having his meeting with the Brotherhood, in an abrupt turn where he didn't watch where he was going. Damn it, he'd just TOLD Punk Rocket not to run: he'd spill something, and if he did it on a loose wire or something, he should short the whole bar out…or something…why was he worried about problems with electricity?), he had one last task to do.

The man with the dome for a head, his exposed brain glowing faintly with darkish-pink energy, seemed unperturbed as the Lord approached.

"Simon Jones. Aka Psimon." The Lord said.

"You know my name, as well you should." Psimon replied, and sipped his drink.

"I also know it was your mental manipulations that caused those robbers to act so foolish and blind, which in turn instead of them running away made them cause trouble and make a mess."

"Your new patron Control Freak said it best. Call it Mischief Night. And I was bored." Psimon said.

"Right, boredom is always annoying…but Psimon, your mistake was doing it in MY bar."

Psimon slammed his drink down and abruptly stood up, his green coat billowing a bit as everyone's eye was drawn to the sudden new noise.

"Do not presume to give me orders darkling. I have fully unlocked my mind's potential and brought it to levels you could never even hope to conceive. Now go back to hiding in the back away from the children who bested you despite all your grand power and attempts to rule the world, and let alone those who have not failed so spectacularly."

Silence.

"Arrogance is an unflattering trait, even among our breed." The Lord 'said', except this time he didn't speak verbally. He spoke directly in Psimon's mind.

"Oh, so you would challenge me? In my place of expertise? Do so! I will enjoy tearing your brain apart, atom by atom!" Psimon replied mentally. "On the world of the mind, I am supreme."

"Oh really, well I guess I can't make you do this then."

And Psimon's fist suddenly clenched and violently punched Psimon in his own testicles. The surprise in Psimon's eyes was only matched by the surge of pain…as the Lord hammered Psimon's limb into his gonads again and again and again until one had to think there was some actual damage done.

With a blink of his eyes, the blackness within the eyes of the Lord lessened, as Psimon wilted, his mental powers blocked while the Lord's ran roughshed.

"Thank you Adam Sandler." The Lord said. "This is my place of business, Jones. I am supreme here, not you. Do anything like this again, and I'll reduce that brilliantly abused brain of yours to the mental capacity of room temperature dog feces. And oh yes, I almost forgot this part of the bit." The Lord said.

The darkness flashed in his eyes again, and Psimon punched himself in the face so hard he fell over his own table.

"What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind." The Lord said, and walked on. He'd dealt with that problem, but he'd spied another in the process.

"And then in the forth game they actually let the zombies…wait no they weren't really zombies, they were called Los Plagas, open doors…" Control Freak droned on, as Nightwalker desperately tried to find anything of interest in Control Freak's lengthy rants and kept coming up blank.

"Kill me now." She whispered to herself as Control Freak went on and on, now lost in his own world.

"Sorry, my pay tends to get docked." Came a sudden voice, and Nightwalker glanced over to see the White Hole had materialized from somewhere, in a new fresh uniform. "Though please don't tempt me. You have a nice swan-like neck I think would be really fun to take a bite out of."

Nightwalker sat there, looking stunned, as the White Hole walked on, Nightwalker really not sure what to make of the comment.

"Hey? Nightwalker! Not wise to check out the alien. She thrives on violence…not to mention YUCK." Control Freak said.

"What? I wasn't checking out the alien!" Nightwalker protested.

"Oh. Good. Well then while you can kick the normal Plagas you can actually do a suplex on the monk ones…"

Nightwalker suddenly found herself wishing the White Hole HAD taken a big bite out of her throat.

Over at the meeting table, Peregrine didn't look happy.

"Now look brain, I don't know where you got your information from…"

"You just used his name with lower case letters, didn't you?" Monsieur Mallah said in his thick French accent. At least I think it was a French accent. I'll go check Wikipedia!

Yeah, it's a French accent. Though in retrospect I probably should have known that considering his name is MONSIEUR Mallah.

"So what if I did? It's not like he has EARS." Peregrine retorted.

"I am quite capable of hearing you. As for conventional ears, I am working on that." The Brain said in his monotone electronic voice.

"HOW? YOU HAVE NO LIMBS!"

"…Monsieur Mallah, you did send message to the correct Dr. Nathaniel Peregrine, did you not? This one seems barely capable of holding together a grade school play, let alone a master plan."

"WHY YOU…!" Peregrine said as he sat up, reaching for something in his suit. Mallah suddenly had a giant gun pointing at him, and Brick stepped forward…

As the gun was yanked out of Mallah's hands and crushed by darkness.

"Put it away Peregrine. I told you to behave." The Lord said, and left his warning at that as he returned his attention to the wall of magical artifacts that took up a small space in his bar. They weren't just there to look pretty either: they aided him and the Sorceress in making sure everything went smoothly in just about any case (such as, say, an attack, or when the Lord needed to negate an arrogant mentalist's powers to put him in his place). Though in the last case, the Lord had been lucky: since there was a spell on the artifacts that touching them (unless you were a select few people) meant death, no one ever went near them…but the spell didn't apply to bullets, and sometime in the firefight a spray of gunfire had gone across this part of the wall and damaged several of the magical relics. They would have to be taken down and repaired: using the relics while they were damaged was a risky business…and damn, the Vioxx seal had a bullet hole through it. That was the current centerpiece of the various charms, fetishes, phylactery, and talismans: it aided in, as you may have guessed, sealing, in this case powers, which allowed the Lord to blunt various people's abilities without affecting his own. He'd need to replace that one for sure: the rest were mostly negotiable but the Vioxx seal was the link to them all: its power connected and flowed through the other artifacts, greatly increasing its power. That had probably been the only thing that had kept it from 'blowing up' in the Lord's face when he had showed Psimon the displeasure of his little prank, and there was no guarantee it wouldn't do that next time. The Lord frowned: this was a deep inconvenience.

"Sir…" Adonis said, as he tromped over to the Lord. "The White Hole has returned, shall I return to my usual duties?"

"Hmmm, no Adonis, keep tending bar, she still has some steam to blow off, better to not let her stand there and stew in her mess of furious psychoses'. Tell her to help repair whatever's still needed."

"Yes sir. Oh, a few crates of mail arrived today, I forgot…"

"They did?" The Lord said, as a possibility occurred to him "Go fetch them. Bring them right here."

"Yessir."

"Now where did that bloody Mumbo go?" Mad Mod said as he angrily drummed his fingers on the table. "He's been gone since…'ell, he's been gone since before the ruckus with the punks!"

"He had better return soon! He owes the great Atlas ten dollars!" The large orange megalomaniac robot boomed (though he didn't seem to have much in the way of other voice settings: his statements always boomed)

"We may as well continue without him and cut him in for the next game." Malchior, stuck in his paper body and unable to access his true form with the magical artifacts blocking it off, said.

"Indeed! The Mad Mod, do you have any 7's?"

"Go fish."

"Here you go boss." Adonis said, as he deposited all the mail, including a few good-sized crates, in front of the Lord.

"Good. Go back to the bar Adonis." The Lord said, as he swiftly disposed of the written mail and began opening the crates.

The second to last one had what he had: inside instead of packed items he found…nothing at all. Except symbols painted on the inside of the crate. The Lord raised one finger and began whispering words of a long forgotten language, and after doing so for fifteen seconds the symbols inside the crate re-arranged themselves and black smoke issues forth from the box. The Lord blew it away, the cloud reeking faintly of brimstone.

As Mumbo, the so-called amazing magician, came staggering out of one of the doors that lead out of the main bar/restaurant. Well, not quite staggering, but his step had a touch of uncertainty.

"Ohhhhhhh, I smell magic…smells like…pickles." Mumbo said, as the Lord looked at him. Something clearly wasn't right with the magician…and you didn't need to be a shadow god to know it, as the Lord sniffed the air, and caught a scent familiar to anyone who experimented with drugs. Mumbo had apparently recently discovered the 'joys' of marijuana. The Lord frowned slightly.

"Mumbo, don't use drugs in my place. I mean it." The Lord said.

"Hey man, weed is not a drug…"

"Maybe many argue it seems harmless in comparison to other illegal narcotics, and hence doesn't deserve the title of drug. I don't care. I don't want you using it in my bar." The Lord said, trying to drive his point home: he didn't feel like maiming or killing Mumbo at the moment, he needed to focus on fixing his wall of artifacts.

"Hey man, I wouldn't think you'd be complaining about something that makes me wanna order twenty appetizers." Mumbo said. "More to the point, weed ain't nothing compared to the shit you pulled. Mass murder, genocide, and making it 6.95 for nachos. NACHOS, man! That can't cost more then fifty cents for the ingredients!"

"Mumbo, be quiet, or I'll do a trick with your hat you REALLY don't want to see." The Lord said, as the cleared black smoke revealed that the inside of the crate now had an item in it, on a small twisted pedestal, as the Lord pulled it out.

It was an orb, about the size of a basketball, with a serrated looking covering. Mumbo's eyes went wide as he recognized what it was. The Orb of Archetypal.

"Hey, I 'been lookin' for that! Where'd you find that, man?" Mumbo said. "I thought I'd gotten high and pawned it or something!"

"What?" The Lord said, his pleasure at finding that his Orb of Archetypal had finally arrived (and at such a convenient time too…wait, why was that nagging feeling of something wrong creeping back into him…it was like he kept recognizing elements of a puzzle but couldn't find the box with the picture). "This is mine. I went to a lot of trouble to get it."

"Yeah yeah, likely story! You can't just order those out of a catalogue you know!"

"Shows how much YOU know." The Lord replied. "This is not yours Mumbo."

"Like heck it ain't! Give it back!"

"Mumbo, do you even know what this is?"

"Eye of Archetypal. Or Orb of Archetypal, it's been called both. Capable of sealing any and all unnatural powers, from mutation to magical based, only unable to affect very low grade enhancements and natural abilities gained through years of training and effort. Able to seal powers even at immensely high levels, which makes it one of the rarest and most powerful magical artifacts in the known universe. Now give it back."

The Lord wondered why he didn't just blast a hole in Mumbo, instead of explaining himself.

"Mumbo, this isn't YOUR Orb. You lost yours to the Titans, who took it to their Tower and…and…" The Lord said, as the full picture finally hit him between the eyes like a bolt of lightning. "The Orb! With the…!"

The Lord looked at the calendar, showing that it was still indeed October 30th. Mischief Night, as a few people had called it.

"With the Titans and the Hive, triggered by…" The Lord said as he looked at the electrical socket that had the wire the Lord thought Punk Rocket would trip over. Now he knew why he didn't want Punk Rocket tripping over the wire: what always triggered it was some kind of electrical short.

"That damn horror invasion phenomenon. How could I forget that? We placed bets on that last year!" The Lord snapped.

"That thing? Why are you worried? You don't have any horror films around her do you?"

"No…but I have too many of the triggers in place, and that includes the biggest one…" The Lord said, as he turned towards the bar. "Control Freak. And his damn technosorcery remote. Oh no. Not this year and especially NOT ME. NO." The Lord said, as he stalked over to Control Freak.

The geek 'master of monsters' was oblivious to the Lord heading his way: he still had Nightwalker cornered as he babbled on and on.

"But really, the great thing about Babylon 5 is that…um…um…you know, I just realized I'm a fan of something for no good reason." Control Freak said. Nightwalker rolled her eyes.

"Like that's the first time THAT happened." The vigilante said, as she tried to find an escape route…

Too late. Control Freak was starting up again.

"Hey now, did I ever tell you about the time I pantsed Leonard Nemoy at the Star Trek convention? Man, I was banned SO fast!" Control Freak babbled. "The trick is, those Vulcan ears of his make it hard to hear stuff, so you can be as loud as you…"

The Lord's hand came clapping down on Control Freak's shoulder.

"HEY!" Control Freak yelled, as he whirled, whipping out his remote to defend himself (not bad reflexes, Nightwalker noted, considering his corpulence): unfortunately he was still too slow as the Lord caught his hand and pointed it up.

"Ah yes, there's the infernal device now. I smell a setup but it's not going to work. Come Control Freak, I'm afraid we do not desire your company any more this night." The Lord said, as he seized Control Freak by the collar of his coat and yanked him out of his seat.

"What? Why?" Control Freak protested.

"You should know damn well from experience what has happened involving your remote in this timeframe over the past few years! If history is going to repeat itself, it is NOT going to happen here! Get!"

"Hey, my money's as green as anybody else's!" Control Freak yelled.

"No it isn't. Because you tend not to bathe, your dollars are YELLOW." The Lord said, as he dragged Control Freak out the door to the bar and up the stairs.

"It's my money, I'll use it as a tissue if I want to!"

"Ugh! Thanks for giving me yet ANOTHER justification. OUT!"

* * *

Outside Moriarty's, in the alleyway. 

"AHHHHH!" Control Freak yelled, as he was forcibly tossed out, crash landing on the ground. "Ow. Hey! You thief! You stole this from the _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ from whenever Uncle Phil forcibly threw DJ Jazzy Jeff out of his house!"

"Thanks for clarifying the reference: it had a hard time conveying itself in a written form." The Lord said, and closed the door with a slam. He heard another crash inside the bar, and headed back down the stairs and inside to see Puppet King buried under another collapsed wall. "Oh. Just you. Cleanup!" The Lord said, and headed back to his crates. With Control Freak gone, he could now install the Orb properly.

Unfortunately, the Orb was no longer in its box.

Fortunately, it was only a few steps away, as Mumbo at an empty table, staring at it. This was, the Lord noted to himself, the trouble with using any type of substance that affected your brain: even if it was 'harmless' by itself…that did not make it harmless in and of itself.

"Oh, this is gonna be great…" Mumbo said, as the Lord approached. "I'll get back and that guy won't even notice I took it, and then it's my word against his…heh…er…uh….uh…"

Mumbo abruptly turned around to face the Lord.

"Hey, I'm trying to smuggle this crystal ball back to my table without the owner noticing. Do you remember which one is mine?"

The Lord stood there, staring, wondering if Mumbo was serious…and then, checking the blank look in his eye that didn't even seem to comprehend he was trying to ask the guy WHO HE HAD STOLEN THE ORB FROM DIRECTIONS TO GET AWAY, if there had been something else in the joint(s?) he had smoked besides the usual hemp.

"…I'll only tell you for that crystal ball." The Lord said on a whim.

"That's great! Most giant frogs ask for two balls!" Mumbo said, as he handed the Orb of Archetypal over.

"And this is why I don't allow drug use in my bar." The Lord said to himself. "Say what you will about my deeds, at least I did them knowing full well what they were."

"So which one was mine?" Mumbo asked.

"The one with the angry robot."

"Narrow it down a bit."

"The yellow and red one."

"Ah, right." Mumbo said, and returned to his table. "Hey Atlas, where's my ten bucks?"

"Stupid human! You owe the great Atlas ten dollars, not the other way around!" Atlas boomed.

"Uh…who are you again?" Mumbo said.

"WHAT? You spoke my name not ten of your seconds ago! How could even a feeble human forget so swiftly!"

"…Are you Mister Coffee?"

"IMPERIUS REX!"

WHAM!

The Lord glanced over from where he was place the Orb of Archetypal into the central spot of the artifacts, saw the fight had consisted of a single punch, and ignored it as Mumbo looked dazed on the ground, his hat squashed over his head.

"…Imperius Rex?" Johnny Rancid said, as he was now playing with them. "What, you curse in paleontology tin man?"

"Oh shut up human." Atlas said.

"…No, really, IMPERIUS REX?"

"Argh! It's…it's from that Sub-Mariner comic book. You happy now?"

"Since when did Sub-Mariner have a solo series?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

"Ah, there we go." The Lord said, as he fully placed the Orb of Archetypal into the central spot. He'd have to get Sorceress to redo the spells when he next saw her. Now to replace the damaged lesser artifacts…which would have to wait a bit: Slade was approaching him.

"I have an inquiry to make, Duke of the Dark." Slade said, his voice coming as close as it could to sarcasm with the last comment. The Lord gave Slade a distasteful look.

"I'll let that pass this time Slade. Can I help you?"

"Some time ago I left a variety of weapons in your care. I have not yet decided, but I may be needing them tonight. You still have them, I assume."

"That crate? Yes Slade, I still have them. They're in top shape, as you left them."

"Good. It would be decidedly inconvenient if I had to visit my main weapon storage. But just to be on the safe side, I would like to examine them."

"Fine. Follow me." The Lord said, as he headed down one of the bar hallways.

"Looks like Father will be gone for a bit." Rose commented.

"Good. ROSE-CHAN, I CHALLENGE YOU!" Kurai declared.

"What?"

"A challenge! If I win, you shall renounce your lawless claim to being Slade's heir!"

"Are you still hung up on that? Fine. If I win, you have to stop calling me Rose-chan."

"It's a deal, Rose-chan!" Kurai replied. Rose narrowed her eyebrows.

"So what kind of contest did you have in mind?" She asked.

"I initially considered combat. But that would be unfair." Kurai said.

"Right, I'd whup your ass too easy."

"LIAR!" Kurai yelled, and then coughed, trying to look dignified. "So, anyone, I asked the White Hole what was the least pleasant item to on this menu to eat was. She indicated item number…10!"

BUM BUM BUMMMMMMM!

"Whoever did that was really sub-par at dramatic revealing sound effects." Kurai said, and with slouched soldiers Thunder and Lightning walked off and left the bar in shame. Probably a good thing, considering they weren't really villains.

Rose looked at the menu.

"The Six-Alarm Buffalo Chili Wings?" She asked. "Are you sure this is really worthy basing a challenge around?"

"I have strong sources!"

"Yeah, those things are way too hot." Hotspot said.

"What the hell are YOU doing here?" Adonis said in shock from behind the bar.

"Being an honorary Titan doesn't pay the bills. So I've been involved in a part time job at a payday loan business." Hotspot said.

"Ugh, that's just cruel man. This is on the house." Adonis said, giving Hotspot a drink.

"So, Rose-chan, DO YOU ACCEPT?" Kurai asked.

"So what, the person who can eat the most without bursting into flames wins?" Rose clarified.

"YES!"

"Why not?" Rose said, and snapped her fingers. As if by magic, Adonis produced a large plate of alarmingly red looking wings, as each of Slade's apprentices grabbed one.

"Go." Adonis said.

Each yanked the wing to their mouth…

And Rose's mask caught on fire, while Kurai inhaled while bringing his to his mouth, which had the rough effect of slamming a mach truck into his sternum, as both recoiled and fell on the ground, the wings dropping back on the large plate.

Adonis stared in disbelief.

"…Tie, Rose-chan?" Kurai asked as he got back up on his seat.

"Make it…so…second apprentice." Rose said. Adonis looked at them again, and then at the wings…and then at the Sorceress, who had emerged from her office and floated over to the bar.

"Are all repairs done? I am no longer needed here? Oh, I see someone ordered Item 10." The Sorceress said to Adonis, looking at the wings.

"…Holy shit Ithlian, what do you put in those?" Adonis asked.

"Hellfire, mostly." The Sorceress said.

"That's what happens when you ask certain people to make food." The Lord said as he returned with Slade, who sat back down with his two apprentices. "Are you done Ithlian? I require your assistance."

"I'm not done John. So stop acting like I'm hired help you can snap your fingers to get to jump." The Sorceress said. "I came out here because of the taste."

"Stop calling me…the taste?"

"Yes…when you started changing around the items on the wall, I noticed a change in the flavor of the magic around here…"

"You taste magic?"

"Yes."

"So what does the boss taste like?" Adonis said, and realized he'd really said the wrong thing at the offended looks on both the godling's faces. "Right, that came out REALLY REALLY wrong, don't hurt me please!"

"Nothing to write home about." The Sorceress said. The Lord's eyebrows narrowed. "But the reason I'm out here is because since I started paying attention to the tastes, I noticed something new. A sour overtone…right over the rich essence of chaos magic manipulation. I only know one thing that combines these two. Technosorcery."

"What? You mean Control Freak? But I just threw him…" The Lord trailed off as he glanced across the bar.

There was Control Freak again, sitting like nothing was wrong, and this time bothering Blackfire, who for some reason wasn't breaking his neck.

"Oh that annoying bastard. You'd think with how well he avoided the Titans this month he'd know not to blow it in the final lap." The Lord said, stalking over.

"So in the end making Starbuck a woman was such a better idea…" Control Freak said before the Lord grabbed him by the collar again.

"You know I thought you had a better sense of self-preservation fatass." The Lord said as he yanked Control Freak off his stool again. "What damaged brain cell made you think you could just waltz back in here?"

"HEY!" Control Freak snapped, as he twisted, broke free, and then whirled and yanked his remote out, quicker this time, as he aimed it at the Lord. "You know why I came back in here! I know your secret!"

"Oh? What?"

"You fear my power!"

Silence.

"Oh this won't end well." Doctor Westminster said, and sipped his drink.

"You know what I did! I made the impossible commonplace! I turned TV channels into an alternate reality! And unlike you, I have no overt weaknesses! I can think of at least 25 ways off the top of my head to completely obliterate you from existence! That's why you're going to stand down and let me remain in your bar, Baron von Nightfall! You don't want to get into a competition with me, or else you'd realize just how much I squander my power!"

* * *

Outside in the alleyway. 

"AHHHHH!" Control Freak yelled as he was bodily thrown out again.

* * *

"Annoying things, hearts. They tend to tip off bluffs." The Lord said as he returned to his bar. He glanced at Blackfire. "You sat there and let him talk like that, Komand'r? Maybe it's true, maybe your glory days are all gone, if they ever were in the first place." The Lord said, and walked on. The Sorceress had vanished back into her office again. Figured. Fine, the Lord would just replace the damaged artifacts and adjust the spells for the Orb of Archetypal later, as he headed over there. 

Blackfire sat there, running the Lord's words over in her head. So this was how it ended, did it? From Queen of Tamaran to this.

"Tried to be good. Didn't work. Tried to be bad. Didn't work either. Neither worked. So, I'm just going to drink myself into oblivion." Blackfire said.

"Are you sure that's such a good…" Adonis asked.

"SUCK MY DICK, SCRAPPILE!" Blackfire snarled, and hurled her bottle at Adonis. It shattered on his neck, too close to his face.

"…Very well." The robot suited man said as he backed off, leaving Blackfire to keep drinking.

"Wow, you took that well." Doctor Westminster commented.

"Oh, not really. I'm going to wait until she's passed out then sell her to a Malasian brothel.

"…Heh. Funny." Westminster said.

"Who said I was being funny? I know a guy." Adonis said. Westminster blinked.

"Welcome to our world mate. Even the most impotent of us have it at the core. But maybe you wouldn't know, would you?" Jack said, and before Westminster could answer he had walked off back to his seat. Annoying lunatic.

Killjoy was back to doing his domino balance building when Peregrine walked past him, looked highly pissed.

"I can't believe this." Peregrine said, having walked away from the table, Brick following in tow. "How could the…what was his name again?"

"Uh…the…Brain?" Brick said.

"Ah yes, such a creatively named one. I can't believe this Brain came in here thinking that I should serve HIM! The insult is incredible! I shouldn't have ever put my money in their safe, this was such a wasted trip! Why did I even BOTHER?"

"Uh…could…make…money…?" The Brick tried to offer.

"Money? Hah! I don't trust them at all! I don't trust them as far as I could throw them! And I don't trust their money either!" Peregrine declared.

"Trust good?" Brick asked.

"YES!"

"…Ok." Brick said, as he suddenly walked off.

"What? Brick? What ridiculous sparking of your four remaining brain cells are you…!" Peregrine yelled as Brick went over to the door to the Sorceress's office and broke through it with ease, going inside.

"HEY! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" The Sorceress shouted from inside, followed by a tremendous amount of racket.

Brick emerged, breaking apart the door frame again as he carried the safe that the Sorceress had put Peregrine, the Brotherhood, and a few other's money in, having yanked it right out of the wall. Sorceress followed, sputtering, and with a wave of her hand she initiated the same force wave that had reduced Hockey Mask to wet dust.

Brick seemed to stumble a bit. That was all, as he thrust out his arms and began spinning, and after a few spins he roared and hurled the safe upward. It smashed through the ceiling and everything beyond with ease, and even as those who could see at the right angle watched it vanished into the sky within seconds.

"…There. Thrown…very far. Can trust." Brick said.

The Lord watched from where he stood, having no idea what just happened, while the Sorceress stared as well, both at what Brick had done and how her force blow had had so little effect.

"…That's going to unbalance all my books!" The Sorceress huffed, as she slapped her forehead and then angrily turned and floated back into her office, a wave of her hand instantly fixing the damage and setting the door back in.

"…Oh." Peregrine said, as he looked up at the hole. "Lessee, if you were even half trying, that's going to be in a rapidly decaying orbit, lemme just do some mental calculations here…DAMMIT BRICK, IT'LL BE HOURS BEFORE IT LANDS BACK ON EARTH AND WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT'S GOING TO LAND!"

"But…far…" Brick slowly insisted.

"QUIET!" Peregrine yelled.

"Oh for the love of, now what happened? This bar does not need a skylight!" The Lord said as he came up to the two. "Let me just make sure my eyes somehow didn't deceive me. Brick, did you throw that?"

"Yes."

"WHY?"

"…I…trust…it."

Lord stared at Brick, and then turned to Peregrine.

"Ok, what did you sat that Oatmeal for Brains misunderstood?"

"…I said I trusted the Brotherhood and their money as far as I could throw them." Peregrine said through gritted teeth.

"…And it never occurred to you, genius, that this is a bad thing to say to your mentally lacking muscle? You know, for being so smart, you constantly amaze me at being SO STUPID!"

"Oh shut up! You're all gore and no brains yourself, and you're no exception! Just last week, you told him to get somebody who was drunk out of here and had him polishing their watch for an hour!"

"Look Peregrine, this is considerable difference in the possible mistakes of the expressions "I don't trust them as far as I could throw them" and "Go clean his clock"…"

"Good evening gentlemen! May I trouble you for a drink?" Said a familiar voice with a horrid false accent, and the Lord turned to look at the speaker, not wanting to believe it.

But it was. Control Freak. With a sub-par beard and mustache with a top hat on, with a new cane. He tried to look innocent.

"…Do…you…HONESTLY think…this. Has. The. Slightest. Iota. Of. A. Chance. Of WORKING, Control Freak?" The Lord snapped through gritted teeth.

"Control Freak? 'Ou is Control Freak? My name is Count Recondite."

* * *

Outside in the alleyway. 

"AHHHHH!" 'Count Recondite' yelled as he was hurled out into the alleyway and into the wall on the other end, where he fell into a bunch of garbage bags.

Silence…

…More silence…

…Still more silence…

…A-HEM…

"Sorry, really was just me with a bad disguise." Control Freak slurred as he got up, his fake beard mostly sloughed off.

Oh for the love of…

A brick fell on Control Freak's head, and he collapsed into the garbage again.

* * *

"Now, before I was interrupted." The Lord said, back down in the bar with Peregrine and Brick. "Besides those differences, I've seen Brick maybe three times. You WORK with him. WHO should know better? And hence WHO is the stupider one?" 

"Oh fine. Forget you. Brick, come with me. The drinks are half water anyway." Peregrine said.

"HEY!" Adonis yelled from the bar.

"No they're not actually. We just water them down for you because you can't hold your liquor for shit." The Lord said.

"OH THAT DOES IT!" Peregrine yelled, getting everyone's attention as he snapped out twin discs and slapped them on either side of the Lord's head. "JUPITER'S GRAVITY!"

Everyone froze as Peregrine tried to bring his suit-allowed powers of gravity manipulation to bear.

And…nothing happened. The Lord cocked his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you trying to get me to abide by the traditional laws of physics?" The Lord said snarkily.

"Oh you and your god-moding." Peregrine said sourly.

"Yes, exactly. You on the other hand…"

* * *

Outside in the alleyway. 

"AHHHHH!" Peregrine yelled as he was thrown out. "OH THAT DOES IT! YOU CAN'T EVEN THINK OF A NEW PARODY FOR ME! THIS BAR SUCKS! I'M GOING BACK TO GRODD'S!"

* * *

Elsewhere… 

The lounge was done in a 1950's style, and once again there were many faces there, many you would find familiar…even with all of them wearing tuxedoes. Especially considering many of them should NOT have been wearing tuxedos.

"I did it MYYYYYYYY WAY!" The singer on stage finished, and walked off amidst light applause as the deadly simian villain, Gorilla Grodd…made somewhat less menacing by the tuxedo he was wearing, walked on stage.

"And that was William Jones, one of Frank Sinatra's many illegitimate children." Grodd said. "Next up, we have a special treat: in town for one night only, the comedic stylings of George Carlin!"

* * *

"That monkey runs one classy joint." Peregrine finished.

* * *

"All right Brick." The Lord said as he came down the stairs again. "You stay here. Ithlian wants to punish you for the safe hurling, but she's working, so drinks are on the house until she turns you inside out or something equally unpleasant." 

"…Who drinks…on roof?" Brick asked.

The Lord stared, in the way of those who keep getting surprised despite themselves.

"…Just sit by the door and ask anyone who comes in who they are." The Lord said, and walked off. Brick, used to taking orders without question, stared dumbly after the shadow god for a few seconds, and then went and sat his massive frame near the door as told.

"Why don't you just kill him?" The White Hole asked as the Lord started walking back over to the wall of artifacts.

"Strongly tempted to, albeit for one reason." The Lord said. "As socially backward and nerdish as Control Freak is, one doesn't get to the level of fine tuning in technosorcery he has without a fair bit of brains. And nothing inspires those brains to create back up plans then a defeat or two at the hands of those accursed Titans. So for the moment I hold off on killing him lest it trigger some surprise in his remote I don't care to deal with." The Lord said…as he spied Punk Rocket, sprinting across the café again like his life depended on it…and heading for a rather messed up carpet, which had several large bumps for Punk Rocket to trip over…

But with nimble feet, he dodged all the bumps, without spilling a drop.

That didn't improve his standing in the least though.

"Though I'm definitely going to kill someone if HE DOESN'T STOP RUNNING!" The Lord yelled. Punk Rocket stiffened and then tried to hide, but the Lord was already dismissing him. He had another idea for avoiding trouble that seemed determined to occur.

"Now return to your duties Rebecalnatrac. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can vent the rage I can feel boiling inside you on whatever unfortunate soul crosses your path in the shadows of this city's underbelly."

The White Hole's expression was unreadable, though that may be due to the fact the Lord had called her by her actual alien first name (It was rendered in English as Rebecca, hence Jack's calling her 'Becky'), and the Lord didn't have time to waste pondering over it, as he came back to the wall of artifacts. Control Freak was being stubborn, was he? Fine, the Lord would just put the Orb back in its crate and revert the magical seals in it, which would 'shift' the Orb out of reality and out of any way it could do harm. He gestured with his finger, and the basic attachment spells nullified themselves as the orb was pulled off its wall attachment and to the Lord's hands.

"Another word, Marquis of the Murk." Slade suddenly said: he'd approached the Lord again while the Lord was removing the orb. The Lord glared at Slade.

"Your skills are immense Slade. But I actually know that." The Lord said in a warning tone, as he tried to find the crate he had pulled the Orb from…and found it gone. Damn it! Someone must have cleared it away. Well he wasn't going to stand here holding the Orb: off the wall and not connected with the Lord and the Sorceress' own spells, anyone who knew the correct right words could invoke the Orb's ability to seal power on HIM, and that would be damn inconvenient to say the least. "We will speak in a second…PUNK ROCKET!"

A brief pause, and then the hard rocker tentatively approached.

"Yes?"

"Now listen carefully." The Lord said as he put the Orb of Archetypal in Punk Rocket's hands. "Take this orb to the Sorceress. And above ALL else, do NOT run. Are we UNDERSTOOD on the second part?"

"Uh…yeah." The rocker said, and the Lord turned away from him to speak to Slade.

Punk Rocket looked at the Orb, finding he didn't like how it felt. Though considering he had no powers (just his guitar), it shouldn't have been able to affect him anyway. He still didn't like it. Or what he was supposed to do.

"Give the Orb to the Sorceress? 'Ell no, she's on the hunt for a head to bite off. Besides, who would want this thing! I don't want it!"

"Yoink!" Mumbo said as he snatched the Orb away from Punk Rocket. "Yes! It is mine again! I once again have it…what is it?"

"Huh!" The Handyman said as he grabbed the Orb from Mumbo. "Now this is some fine craftsmanship." The tool-themed villain said as he pulled out a jeweler's lense. "No flaws at all! What is it?"

"Uh…I think…it's an item of unbelievable magical power." Mumbo said.

Handyman stared at Mumbo…the magician…the rather OUT OF IT magician…who moments ago had been handling a magical item of 'of unbelievable power'…

"Nope, don't like where this is going! Brick, take one for the team!" The Handyman said, and hurled the Orb across the bar.

Brick was just looking in the direction of the shout when the Orb sailed in and bonked into his face. Fortunately, his hand happened to be positioned so the Orb fell into that, rather then on the ground where it may have broken.

"There. Not our problem any more." The Handyman said, as Punk Rocket shrugged and headed back to get more drinks for the next table. What did he care what happened to the Orb? The pay here sucked anyway, hiding place/place of preparation or not.

"Now, before we were interrupted, what I really wanna know is how she got the whole skin off in one…" The Handyman started saying.

"Will you PLEASE let that drop? My current body is made of paper, which doesn't have a stomach, yet it is being upset!" Malchior complained.

"Tools are my trade man, and I just wanna know what tool she used."

'Fine, A WIZARD DID IT."

"So you did it?"

"I'M NOT A WIZARD! THAT WAS MY COVER! NOW CHANGE SUBJECTS ALREADY!"

"One…what?" The Brick said, looking at the Orb.

He never realized that Handyman tossing him the Orb saved him a lot of discomfort, as the Sorceress was now floating over to him. She'd tried to adjust her books for Brick's mistake, but every time she saw the hole where her safe had been she got more and more aggravated, to the point where even she needed to go deal with it. In this case, teach Brick a lesson.

However, that desire vanished when she what he was holding.

"Brick! Where did you get that?" The Sorceress said.

"Uh…team…take…me…orb…sit…uh…" Brick said, as he honestly tried to fight through the fog in his brain, but as it had many times before, it proved too thick.

"Never mind!" The Sorceress said. "Give me that. You'll break it!"

The Sorceress called the Orb to her. Brick actually looked a bit relieved that it was gone and he didn't have to wander through the dark that was his brain to figure out what it was. For a moment the Sorceress just stared, taking in how truly lacking in intelligence he was. It didn't lessen her frustration much, but far be it from saying she didn't understand some things.

And she noticed the Lord was waving her over. He apparently wanted her to join his current conversation with Slade. And, knowing pretty much exactly what the Lord did about the Orb of Archetypal, she had no desire to hold it either.

"Puppet King!" She snapped, and the miserable looking wooden dummy swiftly appeared. She handed him the Orb. "Put this in my office."

The Puppet King took the Orb, looked at it…and then…

"Hey! I ain't got no strings to hold me down!" He snapped. The Sorceress stared.

"What?"

"I don't take orders, I give them! Hence the whole PUPPET KING bit!" The Puppet King snapped.

The Sorceress noticed the White Hole was now next to her: at some point in the past several seconds she had walked by the Sorceress and stopped, probably due to the fact that the subdued, dolorous Puppet King had not only regained some pep, he was yelling at his mistress.

"…I think holding that orb had somehow given him a spine." The White Hole commented.

"Yes, I got that impression. Please deal with it Rebecca." The Sorceress said.

And before the Puppet King could even blink, the White Hole had plucked the Orb out of his wooden hands with one of her own clawed ones…and used the other to smash him across the face, sending him flying across the bar like a baseball and slamming into another wall, which shook from the impact.

"Stupid golem." The White Hole said, glad to have released some of her inbuilt aggression…though the Puppet King's magical wooden body wasn't much fun to smack around. Plus it rendered him tougher then most would believe…not that seemed to be helping the crumbled marionette at the moment.

"Oh…I ain't got no spine…to help me walk…" The Puppet King sang in a daze.

"Now what…" The White Hole said, as she turned…and realized the Sorceress was gone. She'd just left the White Hole holding the Orb as she went off to do whatever she needed to do, as if she expected the White Hole to read her mind on what she wanted. Screw that. She listened to the Sorceress but not like that.

"Forget it." The White Hole said, as she left the Orb on the bar and headed off to do something else.

Brick had watched this little encounter with dull interest, staring at it much like a cow stares at whatever it does while chewing its cud…though while his brain barely worked at all, his ears were fine, and he heard someone coming to the door and turned to face them.

Control Freak, trying to sneak back in, was rather alarmed at the sudden new development of Brick placed by the door.

"Wait…who…are you?" Brick asked.

"Um…I'm Slade." Control Freak blurted.

Brick looked at Control Freak, and Control Freak could see the wince: trying to understand was literally hurting Brick's brain.

"But Slade's already…inside…" Brick said.

"Then if I'm already inside, then you have no reason to stop me from getting in!" Control Freak declared.

"…Go away…you make…my head…hurt." Brick said. Control Freak growled in frustration. He'd just use his remote on the juggernaut, except for someone as magically sensitive as the Lord that would be like announcing his presence with a megaphone.

"Ok fine, how about this. I'll give you twenty dollars, and you look the other way." Control Freak said.

"…Ok." Brick said. Control Freak grinned.

"Ok, here you go!" Control Freak said, handing the (thankfully clean) bill over. Brick took in, and then shifted around so his back was facing the technosorcerer, who began to strut past the giant…

And found a tree-trunk sized arm shoved in front of him, one giant hand keeping him from going on.

"You said turn…around. Still…can't let you in." Brick said. Control Freak glared at the dimwitted giant.

"My good man, a question. Define BRIBE." Control Freak said.

"…Is it something that…is good to eat?" Brick ventured.

"No, that's a bride, Goku. IDIOT!" Control Freak yelled, as he threw up his hands, turned, and stomped back out the door in rage, utterly furious at the whole thing…

And realizing two steps away from the door that by walking out when he was trying to sneak back IN, he was acting in a rather counterproductive manner, as he turned and headed back. Well who cared what had happened, he'd yet get the best of that dunce…

The good news for Control Freak was, Brick had backed off when he came back through the door.

The bad news was that the reason Brick had backed off was because the Sorceress was now there, having finished her part of the conversation and headed back to punish Brick. Only Control Freak interrupted her by stomping through the door.

"Uh…hi miss." Control Freak said, as the Sorceress looked at him.

"Hello. I believe you are banned from the bar tonight and yet still continue to try and get back in. Tell me why I should not react accordingly due to your constant defiance." The Sorceress said.

"Uh…want some chaos magic?" Control Freak asked, producing his remote.

"The foulness of your insistence of blending the accursed science with my domain takes away any of the richness such magic has. It is not a good reason. You have five seconds to give another."

"Uh…because I'm cool!"

"…Because you're cool." The Sorceress repeated.

"Yes!"

"Shall I cast a spell to test that?" The Sorceress said, raising a hand.

"You have a spell for that?" Control Freak said in actual disbelief.

"I am the Sorceress. I have a spell for everything." The Sorceress said. "Now…considering there is a strong chance you are NOT cool…"

"Oh I'm plenty cool! The Fonz ain't got nothing on me!"

"Who?"

"Never mind! Tell you what, if I'm not cool, then I'll change my name to Kevin Dubrauh!" Control Freak said. The Sorceress narrowed one eyebrow, trying to figure out any significance of Control Freak's vow.

"So let me get this straight. If you're cool, then I have to let you in. But if you're not, you have to change your name to Kevin Dubrauh."

"Yes!"

* * *

Outside in the alleyway. 

"AHHHHH!" Control Freak yelled as he was tossed out.

"Better get down to the courthouse, Kevin." The Sorceress said, and turned and floated away as the door closed behind her.

"Ohhhhh…that is IT…they wanna discriminate against me…just like the rest of them…those BASTARDS…" Control Freak said in uncharacteristic rage as he pulled himself up from the garbage again.

The Sorceress didn't know, or care, about Control Freak being angry, as she floated back through the door. She looked at Brick, still sitting dumbly there…except she'd worked out most of her aggression throwing Control Freak out.

"…Just stay there." The Sorceress said, as she floated on, eager to head back to her office and get away from all this nonsense. She even ignored the still-there hole in the ceiling Brick's toss had made. Someone ELSE could fix that.

And hence never noticed that the Orb of Archetypal was still sitting on the bar.

For a few more moments anyway.

"Heyyyyyyyyy…" Blackfire said, her voice slurred just a bit as she finally noticed and picked up the Orb. "I wonder how much I could get for this…HEY BARKEEP! THIS HAS GOTTA BE WORTH ANOTHER ROUND!"

"…Whatever you say, drunky." Adonis said as he took the Orb from Blackfire, looked at it, shrugged, and gave her another bottle. "Great, no space left in the suit, can't carry this around…" Adonis said, as he placed the Orb down near Doctor Westminster. Who had actually been watching the little journey of the Orb.

"Ugh. This thing's been around the room more times then a cheap hooker. I have no idea what it is but I thoroughly decline it being in my personal space anyway." Westminster said as he extended two long daggers of bone from his arm, clamped them around the Orb of Archetypal, lifted it up, and set it down on the bar as far away as he could reach. Which happened to put it almost right next to Jack.

"Oh look, a giant pearl." Jack said as he rolled the Orb over to him. "Reminds me of the color of birdie's faces after I'm done with them."

Poor choice of words, as despite the fact she'd been sitting near him for some time, a spark of recognition still fired through Blackfire's brain as she heard those words from that voice.

"YOU!" Blackfire yelled as she stood up, smashing her bottle to the side. "YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!"

"Oh bother, I thought I was done with this." Doctor Westminster said, and dove onto the floor as a Blackbolt went flying.

"HEY! NO FIGHTING! WE JUST FIXED IT! THE BOSS WILL BE PISSED!" Adonis yelled as he tried to break up the fight, as the Orb, forgotten, was thrown through the air and away from the bar from the force of the Blackbolt's impact. It shot down the hallway.

"Maybe I better get going…" Hotspot said as he left the bathroom.

DONG! The Orb bounced off his head, flying off in another direction. Hotspot collapsed, unconscious. Or dead. Or sick. One of them. I don't care, do you?

Punk Rocket came across the fallen body…and then with an almost bored effort picked him up and shoved him in a closet.

See? No one cares.

Back to the Orb, as it continued its second flight and landed back on the bar…right in front of Rose and Kurai, even as the White Hole interjected herself in the fight, which quickly brought it to an end. They knew not to give her an excuse.

"What's that?" Rose asked.

"You shall never distract me from this staring contest, wench!" Kurai snapped, as the Orb started rolling away, towards the edge of the bar…

"Jackass!"

"Hussy!"

"Shithead!"

"Termagant!"

And slipped off.

"Shmuck!"

"Woman of questionable character!"

And was caught.

"Gad, enough, I can feel the testosterone from here." Nightwalker said as she lifted up the orb…and saw that Slade Wilson was returning. She immediately put on her respectful face.

"Ah, Slade…um…what do you make of this?" Nightwalker said, offering Slade the Orb, as Kurai and Rose shut up and looked away, their contest nullified by the return of their master.

"I am not sure. It seems...oddly familiar." Slade said. "But since taking lost items is against the listed rules of the establishment, I suppose it is up to me to be responsible and give it to the owner." Slade said, as he took the Orb from Nightwalker and walked off again. Nightwalker returned to her own seat.

"…Gomeril!" Rose suddenly snapped, as she started up the staring contest again.

"Vituperator!"

"Oh how can you know a word like that! You can barely speak the language!"

"Same way you know an obscure synonym for idiot like gomeril you blonde!"

"OH NO YOU DIDN'T!"

Nightwalker sighed and rolled her eyes.

Slade returned to the Lord, who was once again examining his wall of magical artifacts.

"I do not mean to keep bothering you, Tsar of the Tenebrosity…"

"Ok Slade, DROP IT. I am the LORD of the NIGHT. I know you don't like using the name because you calling ANYONE a lord is against you, but drop it! I don't call you Dell, or Valley, or Flat Piece of Low, Moist Ground…"

"Your point is made and understood. This is also in my possession." Slade said as he handed the Orb over. "You should keep better track of items like this. It could have been smashed a thousand times. And I'd also like to point out that for the whole chapter absolutely no one has actually addressed you as the Lord."

Slade tried not to enjoy the look of complete disbelief on the Lord's face, both at the realization of the truth of the name thing and Slade handing him back the Orb. Didn't succeed very well at it either.

"What the…how did YOU get this?"

"It has been through many hands, lo these five minutes." Slade said.

"I asked for it to be put away, not used in a game of Whisper Down The Alley!" The Lord snapped, as he floated the Orb up in lieu of holding it.

"You obviously didn't ask well enough. Good day, or night, for now." Slade said, as he headed back to his seat.

The Lord stood and stewed for a moment, wondering who to punish…and then decided, screw it. He'd put the Orb back on the wall, seal up all the electrical sockets, and if Control Freak came back in, he'd just do something that didn't involve killing. Maybe if he insisted on bringing his accursed remote back into the bar, he'd just shove it where the sun don't shine…

"Now, my apprentices, did anything happen while I was having my several discussions with the proprietor?" Slade asked Rose and Kurai.

"Nothing important, Slade-sama."

"Control Freak got thrown out a few more times. That's about it."

"Yes, I noticed that he seems to have been singled out…rather curious, actually." Slade said. "In fact, I think I shall have one last discussion with the owner, just to be certain why he is constantly being removed…"

And with that Slade left again. Nightwalker smacked her forehead, knowing what was coming next with their master one again gone.

The Lord had finished sticking the Orb back into the central position and redoing the basic connection spells when he felt a hand tap her shoulder. Well, more like knife-edge poke-slam his shoulder. He snapped his head over his shoulder, even as an extending arm snapped back to its normal length.

"Oi, can 'oi get some flippin' service over 'ere?" Madam Rouge yelled.

The Lord glanced to the side, seeing that the White Hole and Adonis were looking to see what his reaction was, but the Lord waved them away as he walked over.

"First of all, I am not one of…wait a minute, didn't you have a Russian accent before?" The Lord realized, as Madam Rogue's command sounded more like cockney English.

"I 'em, how you say, a woman of many accentz." Madam Rouge said in yet ANOTHER accent, this one the Lord couldn't place…and he didn't want to.

"Right. Well, unfortunately your Brain is not an…organ of many dollars. His tab has been run up past my patience, which means, no, you don't get any 'flippin' service', and for your choice of attempts, you might get a lot worse!"

"You do not scare us." The Brain intoned. "You are nothing. We were the villains of the last season of a show YOU NEVER APPEARED ON."

"Oh, and please, remind the readers what happened at the end of your evil plot?"

Silence.

"Well?"

"…Something involving monkeys. Perhaps with wings…" The Brain said with uncharacteristic lameness.

"Right." The Lord said, his voice thick with disparaging sarcasm.

A second later, he found the front of his suit seized by Monsieur Mallah.

"You will NOT DISRESPECT…!"

The Lord's suit abruptly became as thin as air, as the Lord utilized his shadow powers to break Mallah's grip, as he shot out his own hand and grabbed the gorilla by the throat.

"Next time, I use the claws." The Lord said, and hurled Mallah backwards. "Monkey, if your master cannot pay his bill, I will put his neat little container in charge of fermenting alcohol."

Mallah snarled.

"I have disabled your gun, and you have already seen how futile physical blows are. That leaves your options…somewhat limited." The Lord said.

Silence.

And then something brown and unpleasant struck the Lord in the face.

"…" The Lord said, as he reached up and pushed the highly unpleasant substance off his face. "Talk about a shitty last resort."

And then a seven-foot katana appeared in the Lord's hands.

"NOW YOU ARE _IN_ THE SHIT."

"Brotherhood of Evil, retreat!" The Brain said, and then there was a brilliant flash as the Brain activated a teleportation device in his personal system, warping him, Monsieur Mallah, and Madam Rouge to safety.

"Sorceress, make a note. They're banned." The Lord said, as a slight shift of his own personal matter got rid of the rest of the disgusting choice of projectile Mallah had used.

And then, suddenly, General Immortus emerged from the hallway.

"Sorry, I…" Immortus said, and trailed off as he saw the Brotherhood was gone. "Oh. Child, where did my companions go?"

* * *

Outside in the alleyway. 

"AHHHH!" Immortus yelled as he was thrown out.

* * *

"And I'd say that joke is finally dead." The Lord said as he came back into his bar. 

"One more time Caesar of the Crepuscule…"

"AND SO IS THAT ONE." The Lord said, thrusting his very long sword at the approaching Slade. He stopped.

"Hmmm. One might say one was compensating…"

"Say something of worth Slade, or be silent. My patience for this night is running thin."

"I merely wish to ask why you keep throwing Control Freak out."

"Why Slade, don't you remember? What happened these last few years? We watched last year's on the television after all…"

And Punk Rocket ran past the Lord, who finally decided he'd had enough as the rocker dodged around a table…

And then saw which table he was heading for, and decided to leave it in fate's hands.

As Punk Rocket stopped on a dime, grabbed the glass, and slammed it down…

Not realizing in time he was serving Killjoy's table. He just went by table numbers on a map for the most part…which is why he slammed the drink down instead of placing it.

Killjoy stared as his dominoes wavered, his eyes sliding onto Punk Rocket.

The rocker froze.

Killjoy's eyes bored into him, so calm…and so cold…

A thin trickle of sweat began running down Punk Rocket's face, seeing every subtle vibration as it rocked through the dominoes, the small game pieces shifting so slightly, ever so slightly…

And then stopped.

The dominoes stood.

Punk Rocket glanced at Killjoy again, his eyes were as blank as ever, as Punk Rocket slowly began backing up…and then ran away full-tilt, not stopping until he reached the bar.

"Damn." The Lord said, as Punk Rocket reached the bar and put his tray down, breathing in relief.

Killjoy turned back to his dominoes.

As a drop of collected moisture dripped off the edge of the glass and landed on the table.

The dominoes collapsed.

Killjoy pulled his gun, as Punk Rocket screamed (lucky for him he'd turned around again) and dove behind the bar, as Killjoy emptied the handgun's whole clip into the wood of said bar. And he could aim much better then the average gunman.

"Killjoy! Enough! Really!" The Lord called, as the assassin began reaching for a clip. "I've had enough of repairs for one night. Can we just call it even, even if he's still alive?"

Killjoy glanced at the Lord…and then ejected his empty clip, slapped another one in…and put his gun away, as he returned to the dominoes.

Punk Rocket slowly slipped his head over the edge, amazed he didn't have a hole in him, as Killjoy went back to his dominoes.

"…Maybe I should stop running…" He muttered.

"…Oh hey, game's on!" The Handyman said, and got up and headed to the bar where he turned the TV on. That broke the tension in the bar, and people went back to what they were doing.

"I mean, why is it me? I never did anything to him, or anyone…well, except try and take over the world, but who hasn't done that here?" Puppet King complained. "But they just keep heaping abuse on me…it's not fair…I had the magic…and it's so unnecessary! Just because I said the drinks were watered down, Darkman the Barkeep didn't have to create termites in my leg…"

WHACK!

Puppet King flew, his head smashing into a lower part of the wall nearby.

"Oh SHUT UP. You're so pathetic you're even MY punching bag." Dr. Light said. "And…and…wood is harder then I had been led to believe. OWOWOWOWOW!" Dr. Light hissed as he waved his hand in the way the hurt sometimes so.

Dazed once more, the Puppet King sat up. Glancing behind him, he saw he'd plowed headfirst into an electrical socket. Really messed it up too: a few sparks were spitting from it. Well, at least wood didn't conduct electricity, as the Puppet King scurried off.

"So, Torque, your deal is that you have your head turned around, right?" Johnny Rancid asked.

"Your point?" Torque asked in great annoyance: he did indeed have his head turned around, the result of him going toe to toe with a superstrong crime lord, somehow surviving getting his head twisted 180 degrees, and then recovering from radical drug therapy that let him regain his former physical peak at the cost of having his head permanently stuck backwards. He got around the problem of seeing via special mirrored glasses/goggles, which effectively let him see forward and backward.

"How is that a superpower?" Rancid asked.

"I'd say the fact that I survived the experience is pretty unusual." Torque said in an effort to defend himself.

"The ability to live the rest of your life as a backwards freak? Some power, mate." Mad Mod commented.

"Oh look who's talking! Your only power is being a horrible British stereotype!"

"You need to learn to respect your betters!" Mod retorted.

"More like his elders." Rancid cracked.

"Oh, you making cracks, you rotter? What's your angle? You seem to be a vaguely strong man with an overcharged motorcycle and different robot pets. That's not a power at all!"

"Hey, all your powers come from fucked up eye tricks and…"

"SHUT UP!" The Lord yelled, suddenly at their table. "LET'S ALL AGREE YOUR POWERS SUCK AND GO ON WITH OUR LIVES!"

The Lord turned and stalked back to Slade, leaving the three lesser villains silent at their table, while the Lord resumed his conversation.

"Aha! I know!" Kurai said, once again taking advantage that Slade was still speaking with the Lord. "Let us see who can lose the most blood before passing out!"

"…you first." Rose replied.

"…Right." Kurai said. "Aha! Let us see who can kill Mumbo the fastest!"

"Now that one actually sounds like FUN." Rose replied.

"Whoever kills him assumes his debt to the bar. House rules." Adonis said, as he stood nearby cleaning glasses, still filling in for the White Hole, who was on her break and sitting at a nearby table eating something that Adonis could swear had been alive when she'd started.

"Curses." Kurai said.

"My turn to suggest a challenge. Let's see who can go the longest without saying anything stupid." Rose said.

"And who shall judge?" Kurai asked.

"I win." Rose replied.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!"

"You forget to set terms." Adonis added.

"Which makes your contest moot! HAH!" Kurai said.

"Fine. Arm wrestling." Rose said with annoyance.

"I have super strength. It would be patently unfair."

"Only if you use it."

"You have small amounts of super strength. While I can power down to not use mine, yours is inherent. Either way, it would be patently unfair."

"…Huh." Rose said. "You actually have a brain under that language barrier and rage. No wonder Dad picked you until his true heir was available."

"THAT IS STILL TO BE DECIDED, WHORE!"

"JAP!"

"QUEEN OF THE HARPIES!"

"PENCIL-DICK!"

"You know, if this were an anime, they would be a destined couple." Slade commented to the Lord.

A throwing knife embedded itself in the wall just in front of Slade's face.

"Rose, dear, try not to bend those, they're expensive." Slade said. "I will tell you that considering the information you just gave me, I may take my own precautions if Control Freak returns to this place."

"Just keep in mind what I myself said." The Lord replied, as Slade left once more.

"UNSCRUPULOUS…!"

"AND YOU TWO WILL STOP IT NOW OR ELSE YOU'RE BOTH DISINHERITED!" Slade snapped at he returned. His apprentices immediately went silent.

"…Um…Mister Wilson…pardon me if I'm being rude but…if they do get kicked out, can I slide into the available slot?" Nightwalker asked, always looking to improve herself. Being Slade Wilson's apprentice would definitely do that, and since she was now sitting closer to the three then she had been before she may as well…

"Really? You're interested? Would you rip out an eye if I told you to?" Slade asked.

"Uh…wouldn't keeping my peripheral work better?" Nightwalker asked.

"You pass." Slade said.

"WHAT?" Rose yelled, as her lone remaining eye went as wide as possible: if her eyepatch was a monocle, it would have fallen off her face as monocles often do in comedies.

"You passed the loyalty test Rose, but failed the common sense test." Slade said.

"The latter seems needed for the former." Nightwalker commented.

"WHY YOU-!" Rose snarled as her hand, quick as lightning, snapped down and yanked out her leg firearm, a long elongated pistol like the ones found in the Wild West, as she snapped it up…

She was probably faster then Nightwalker, but the fact that Nightwalker had her weapon right on her arm proved to be a better edge, as Rose found Nightwalker's gauntlet right in her face even as she brought the gun up into a Mexican standoff.

"Don't test me." Nightwalker said.

"…Hmmmm." The White Hole said, watching with interest from her table as she ate. Though she wasn't quite sure why.

And it didn't last long, as a slight ringing metal noise, the sound of a blade leaving its sheath, rang through the one again quieted bar as Slade drew and placed his sword on the crossed arms. Nightwalker could feel how sharp the blade was even through her armor, and that was saying something.

"Down." Slade said.

"I'll drop it when she does Mr. Wilson." Nightwalker said.

"That was addressed to both of you. Do not make me repeat myself."

Nightwalker didn't trust Rose much, but she respected Deathstroke the Terminator's reputation, and she listened. Rose did as well, though she certainly looked like she wanted to settle it in a different fashion.

"That's better. And while they followed my orders and are thus NOT disinherited, we can talk later, Ms. Sine." Slade said.

"A pity. They do both seem to lack a certain soundness in their judgment." Nightwalker said in a parting shot. Rose grit her teeth and shifted her arm, as if debating going for her gun again despite her father's order.

"That is why I am the master, and they the apprentices." Slade said.

"That isn't set up like the Sith, is it?…Oh dear god, Control Freak infected me." Nightwalker said.

"I have too many plans in motion for there to be only two of us." Slade replied.

"You mean like the ones the Titans all thwarted, almost easily?" Jack commented from a few seats away. Slade glanced at the Australian.

"Foul dog, I will…!" Kurai said as the energy appeared on one hand again.

"No, ignore him Kurai. He's looking for a fight. Don't give him what he wants." Slade said to his apprentice. "As for you, Djinn, those were the plans I let them KNOW about."

"Oh, and what happened to the plans you DIDN'T let them know about?"

"Now that…is a secret. But believe me Djinn, unlike many people, I actually know what I am doing. ALWAYS."

* * *

_RANDOM FAMILY GUY STYLE CUTAWAY!_

"So you see, Mr. Jones, there is nothing you have that I cannot take away." Slade said to Indiana Jones, who for some reason was hanging by one arm above a pit of snakes in front of snakes. And was, you know, real. Somehow. In a sense. You know what I mean.

"How about your daughter's virginity?" Indiana retorted.

"…You know, I was going to let you fall to your death, killed by something you fear greatly." Slade said, and then pulled out a pistol. "This time I'm actually going to make sure you actually die."

BANG!

_END CUTAWAY!_

* * *

"You know you didn't have to point out the cutaway was ending, that was in its nature more obvious then it's beginning." Slade said. 

CRASH!

"THE NEXT PERSON WHO WRECKS THE FOURTH WALL GETS A PERSONALLY GIVEN FACELIFT!" The Lord yelled from across the bar.

Yes, truly a strange place, this bar. Let us take one last look through it…at Doctor Light, holding his glass full of icy water against his knuckles for a bit before setting it down in his table…a bit too close to the edge of the table, really, and then move on to…

"**_GET ON WITH IT!"_** The whole bar yelled.

CRASH!

Right, before this whole story collapses beneath its own self-referencing nature, let us skip to the end of our planned last look, which ends at the Handyman, now sitting at the bar close to where Nightwalker had been sitting earlier, watching football on the TV. The same TV that last year had shown a very unusual event.

Perhaps it was a sign.

"Fumble! They've lost the ball!" Madden declared in his play by play. "It's picked up! And he's on the 20…the 15…the…well Bob, in all my years of sportscasting, I've never seen this! It looks like a fat man in a brown trenchcoat is in the endzone and is…mowing down the players with what appears to be a laser gun!"

"So it is John, and I bet you the refs are gonna pull a flag on that." Bob replied.

"HAH!" Control Freak declared as he popped out of the TV, his gun vanishing back into whatever sci-fi world he'd summoned it from. "You need more then a locked door to keep me out!"

"HEY! YOU FAT BASTARD! I HAD TWENTY BUCKS ON THAT GAME!" The Handyman yelled.

"Here, I'll tell you the ending." Control Freak sarcastically replied. "One steroid using millionaire ran past another steroid using millionaire, delivering a ball to an arbitrary place. There. I just saved you every fall for the rest of forever. You can thank me later."

And then the Lord grabbed Control Freak and yanked him away with a yelp.

"You know, it's funny how you can make such astute comments, yet so clearly express a death wish by refusing to listen me. I think life, beyond your loathsome appearance and execrable social skills, is telling me that you are never to breed. And whom am I to argue with life?" The Lord snarled, as he dragged Control Freak across the room. He'd had it. Just when he was about to fix the hole in the ceiling and call it a night Control Freak comes back, again, a factor the Lord should have done away with the first time by killing him, not to mention the constant attempts to nip the problem in the bud not working.

And the night wasn't done throwing annoying problems at him yet, as Control Freak managed to squirm out of the Lord's grip again. The Lord snarled and formed claws of shadow…as Control Freak reached into his coat, pulled out his remote…and something else.

"Hold it! Cut! I don't like this situation! So we're doing a retcon!" Control Freak said as he aimed his remote at what else he had brought out…a DVD. "This is a compilation of the hundred scariest moments of film picked by Donthavealifedontwantone dot com! All of it burned onto this DVD! So here's the deal…!"

"Sigh. It appears I must involve myself." Slade said, as he got up and left Rose and Kurai alone again, heading for the Lord and Control Freak's 'disagreement'.

"…Hey Rose-chan, I bet you can't hit that glass of water over there with this fork." Kurai said.

"Are you going to be hypercompetitive all night?" Rose replied in disbelief.

"YES, DAMN IT! I am the TRUE disciple of Slade-sama! You're just blood!"

"Fine. I'll prove you wrong. You mean that glass perched on that table edge precariously close to that damaged, sparking, electrical socket?"

"Yes! That's the one! Hit it with the fork!"

"…Kurai, something is telling me this would be a real bad idea…"

"My dear Rose-chan, if you want to surrender, no need to hide it in other words." Kurai smirked.

"Surrender? Why you…"

"You let me back in the bar, and I warp this thing into deep space! Otherwise, I'll just jump-start the whole mess, right here, right now!" Control Freak threatened.

"Really." The Lord said, trying to hide his deep irritation. And to top it all off, the bar had seen so much chaos that night this latest dustup was actually being mostly ignored, the patrons going on the business, rendering the whole thing into one big noise pounding on the Lord's head.

"Yes! I'll do it! Don't make me!"

"Let me shoot him." Slade said, as he came up near the Lord and drew a handgun.

"Hah! Wanna risk my death twitch?" Control Freak said, pressing his remote against the DVD.

"Perhaps I should shoot his hand off instead."

"Oh no Slade, let him start the ridiculous nonsense we watched last year again, in our own backyard, so to speak. We can feed a new piece of him to each new bit of fiction we encounter."

"Uh…" Control Freak said, and then tried to hide his new doubt by pressing the remote against the DVD again. "I'LL DO IT! You won't need some random electrical discharge this time! I can do it all by myself!"

The glass teetered on the edge of the table…

The damaged electrical outlet spat a few more sparks…

Rose, oblivious to these factors, aimed her shot…

And Control Freak pressed up against his DVD filled with untold amounts of horrors, dying to get out…

With nothing.

"HUH?" Control Freak said, as he realized that his remote was gone.

"Helps if you have this." The Sorceress said, holding up her new toy. One small teleportation spell was all it needed.

As Rose hurled the fork through the air.

…And it thudded into the wall, having missed the water glass by a half inch.

"HAH!" Kurai yelled, as Rose made a low noise of frustration.

"Hey!" Light snapped, having seen the projectile barely miss his water, as he pulled it back from the edge of the table. "Don't make me come over there!"

"Uh…" Control Freak whimpered.

"May I Slade?" The Lord asked.

"…As you will." Slade replied, holstering his gun: it was in the Lord's hands now.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Control Freak screamed, as he turned to run…

Into the Lord, who had swiftly warped behind him. He once again seized Control Freak by his coat.

"I'll take THAT." The Lord said, snatching the DVD. With a quick flash of black power, it was burned to nothing, much like the bodies of the four robbers who had had the misfortune to think they could rob the Villain Café. Much like Control Freak had had the misfortune to think he could threaten his way back into it. "Oh, you REALLY screwed the pooch this time Control Freak. You…" The Lord said, and then winced, no one was paying attention, there was so much NOISE…

**_"QUIETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!"_**

And just like that, everyone and everything stopped in the bar, as everyone stopped talking and stood or sat where they were. Slade and the Sorceress standing nearby, Blackfire, Doctor Westminster, Asphyxiation (aka Jack Djinn), Rose, Kurai, Nightwalker, and Handyman sitting at the bar with Adonis behind it, and scattered around the room, most sitting at tables but a few standing, Killjoy, The White Hole, Dr. Light, Brick still sitting by the door, Mumbo, The Puppet King, Mad Mod, Atlas, Melchior, Johnny Rancid, and the villain from out of town, Torque. Even Psimon was still there despite the humiliation he had suffered earlier…and finally, Punk Rocket…who had stopped in mid-step while delivering another tray of drinks.

The Lord had been angrier then he meant to be. His bellow hadn't just been a noise. It had been a slight exertion of his power, in which he commanded everyone to freeze and be quiet. Most had the power to resist the full implications of this accident, but a few…found themselves unable to move. By stuck in mid-step, it meant that Punk Rocket still had one foot in the air…and he couldn't put it down.

"Uh…little help here?" He asked.

No one heard him. They had been compelled to listen to the Lord, and those who weren't…listened anyway.

"Thank you." The Lord said.

The Sorceress handed the Lord Control Freak's remote control, guessing that he wanted it and guessing correct.

"You know Control Freak, I was going to just toss you in the big cooker in the back and see if you could thicken up the chili some…"

In the background someone vomited in realization of what the Lord's threat implied.

"I DON'T DO THAT ON A REGULAR OCCURENCE!" The Lord yelled. "But…now I have a better idea. You want to come in here so bad? Then let's put the case to your peers."

"Really, help would be nice…!" Punk Rocket said, as the Lord threw Control Freak on the ground.

"This is Control Freak. He's a technosorcerer…and two years ago his damn remote opened up a pathway to another world. A very, very STUPID world, but one that existed nonetheless thanks to the little toy he created. That year, and the year after, his little creation caused trouble…but not for us. BUT, it's that time again, and where is he? In here, with his remote, WITH US. DRAW YOUR OWN CONCLUSIONS."

"Uh…I was bluffing?" Control Freak said.

"Bluffing? Oh well then let's just forgive and forget…oh yeah, I forgot, WE'RE THE BAD GUYS." The Lord snapped. "It doesn't matter if you meant to trigger the effect or not. Several of us know damn well you don't have to do anything but be there. Or more precisely, your remote has to be there. And everything else is lined up in place here, despite my best efforts. AND I'VE HAD IT!" The Lord yelled, as he threw the remote at Control Freak, knocking him flat on his back as the remote slammed into his chest. "So I tried to get rid of you, but you kept coming back. I am not known for my mercy, Control Freak, and neither is anyone else who saw what happened last year, who knows what happens, who knows how the gate gets opened! And it's not happening in here!"

Control Freak got up, clutching his remote, as the Lord reformed his sword and claws.

"So I'm cutting it off at the pass. The third time is NOT the charm."

"But you burned the DVD to nothing! You left out one thing! You need material for it to work! Movies, games, anything! And there's nothing like that here!" Control Freak protested in desperation. As for why he didn't try and use his given-back remote on the Lord, well, would YOU want to make the Lord even angrier then he was?

"You know what, I don't care. Like _Jurassic Park_ said, 'Life finds a way'. Even life as unnatural, as ridiculous, as outright ABSURD as what your damn remote spawned. Oh no. Not here. Not with us. I forbid it. Let others handle that nonsense. Let the children play in such ridiculous setups. I will NOT play by any rules other then my own. And I will NOT let your bullshit boogeymen take up residence in MY WORLD!"

The Lord spun around.

"So tell me, everyone, do you want to let him drink with us? Or should I just do what I do best."

Silence.

"Take it from me." Nightwalker suddenly spoke up. "I lived through it. So to speak. Unlike what it comes from…it's not entertaining in the least."

"Yes, and I am quite loathe to provide these PEOPLE with any more entertainment." The Lord said.

"…Uh, which people are you talking about exactly Lord?" The Sorceress asked.

"They know who they are." The Lord said, as he glanced in a certain direction. "I am not a joke. I am not a punchline. I am the LORD OF THE NIGHT! I am the bad guy here! For lack of a better term, I'M CREDIBLE!" The Lord said. "So Control Freak, you have to go, and so does your remote. No boogeymen this year. OVER MY DEAD BODY!"

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Punk Rocket yelled as he finally lost his balance and fell…as his drinks crashed to the ground in a storm of liquid and glass…

…Right against the damaged electrical socket.

The Lord's eyes snapped towards the noise. So did Control Freak's.

As a dark crackling sound filled the bar even as the liquid struck the damaged outlet.

"…Make it so!" Control Freak said, as he tossed his remote to the Lord and dove on the floor. The Lord, on instinct, caught it.

"…Oh fiddlesticks."

The electrical bolt exploded from the socket, far larger then it should have been…because this wasn't an electrical reaction. This was a key turning in a lock.

It struck the remote, and the power coursed through it, and the Lord in turn as he yelled, the energies ripping into him, tearing through his shadow matter…and then with a snarling curse he half threw and half thrust the remote away from him…

…as he realized that was the LAST THING he should have done, as the energy crackling through the remote turned a familiar red…

And shot out, striking the Orb of Archetypal and coursing through it…and into all the magical artifacts linked to it in turn, it's power spiking upward higher and higher from it, as the whole bar began to shake.

"Oh no NOT AGAIN!" Nightwalker shrieked.

And a gigantic surge of red power returned, refracted through the Orb and all its brother artifacts, utterly consuming the bar.

And tearing up through the hole in the ceiling, the hole the Lord would have fixed…but he hadn't, and hence it escaped, as the blood red power shot through the roof and slashed up into the sky above Jump City.

"WHAT THE DEVIL!" Robin yelled as he recoiled away from the window, as all the Titans jumped from the sudden eruption from their city.

Brother Blood saw the arcing blood red blast as well. His reaction was simpler: he dove and hid under his chair.

As the blast split into many crimson bolts of questing energy, as they rained back down onto Jump City.

As one struck a movie store, and the people inside screamed as the red energy tore through the shelves, gathering on their chosen targets…

As the bolts hit more movie stores, from chains to small family owned businesses. And video game stores. And malls. And just about everything else in between, dozens of places around Jump City exploding with the power.

And then, in a final blast of red illumination, the entire city of Jump was plunged into darkness.

Gate open. Third time WAS the charm.

* * *

The bar was as dark as the rest of the city, as people moved and coughed in the blackness. 

"…FUCK. NOW WHAT?"

"You know damn well now what! Didn't you pay attention to the LAST two stories?"

CRASH!

_To Be Continued._

* * *

**_Next Time, In Boogeymen III!_**

_Once again, infiltration has been easy. I swear, these villains just get dumber and dumber. Jack got it all wrong in his choice. As for me, all I needed was a holo-pin and I convinced Slade he had a daughter. Moron. And GOD this Kurai kid is annoying. Honor…what is it really? Is it something personal? If it's a societal thing, then it's basically just brownie points, and is then stupid. He's dishonored himself his actions so many times…ah well. Time to get back into character. Tee hee!…What was THAT?_

**8888**_  
_

_White Hole snarled, "And I don't care how much being a lesbian semi-villain will make the male demographic love you, Nightwalker. I WILL CRUSH YOU!"_

"…_Where…did…your…shirt…go?"_

**8888**_  
_

_And Killjoy drew his gun and shot Barney._

"_I love you, you love me, we're all one gun-fightin' family…"_

_And just to be sure, emptied the whole clip into him._

**8888**_  
_

_"Nightwalker, I am your father." Slade said._

_Nightwalker stared…and then she looked at the camera._

_"…What a twist!"_


	2. In Soviet Russia, Movie Horrors YOU!

_Part 2: In Soviet Russia, Movie Horrors YOU!_

Writer's Note: Sorry for how long the opening chapter was. But hey, you made it. Now, if you're a newcomer and get confused over so many characters, here is a listing of the characters: first will be the characters canon to DC (And hence appeared on the show, in the comics, or both) and then the original characters created by various authors. Real names will be given if known.

Canon

Slade: Slade Wilson (also known as Deathstroke the Terminator). Expert mercenary and warrior, the Titan's greatest foe.

Ravager: Rose Wilson, Slade's teenage daughter. Inheritor of Slade's abilities as well as a unique precognitive ability all her own. Only appeared in the comics.

Control Freak: Overweight, unshaven geek extraordinaire, dubbed a 'technosorcer' in my world, technosorcery being a dangerous but potent blend of science and magic. Has a remote control that can warp reality in various ways as well as several other geek-inspired weapons. Control Freak's remote has been the trigger for the horror monsters coming to life in every Boogeymen story thus far.

Brotherhood of Evil: Have left the story. Considering what they've seen, they probably won't be coming back.

Puppet King: Once a living wooden puppet with 'The magic', now a living wooden puppet that's the punching bag of every single other villain. Why do I treat him so badly? I don't know, it's just funny.

Dr. Light: Arthur Light. Slightly dim-witted scientist who either has a suit that allows him the power pf photokinesis (mental control of light), or has an innate photokinesis ability, or a bit of both. In any case, he doesn't exactly have a lot of mental or moral strength to go along with it (the version that appears here will mostly be in the vein of the Doctor Light who appears on the show, rather then the far more competent villain Doctor Light has recently become in the comics)

Blackfire: Komand'r. Starfire's supposedly stronger sister, Blackfire's nasty lifestyle and its heavy consequences seem to be weighing on the alien's soul…but that may not last.

Mumbo: Magician with varying strength levels, but he has a fair number of tricks. Since this world is far more adult then the original cartoon show, Mumbo has somehow acquired a marijuana addiction.

Adonis: Small man, big robot suit, small brain.

Johnny Rancid: Motorcycle riding punk.

Melchior: Evil dragon now trapped in a body made of paper.

Atlas: Megalomaniac robot.

Psimon: Simon Jones. Cruel and sadistic mentalist with immense telepathic and telekinetic powers. Based more on the current comic version then the one that appeared in the show.

Torque: Dudley Soames, psychopathic former policeman whose violent origin has given him a unique look on life. Did not appear in the show, as you may have guessed. Why is he here? Visiting, I guess.

Original

The Lord of the Night: Murderous vigilante turned shadow-god. Nowhere near as amusing as he comes off in here, he may be the Titan's strongest foe to Slade's greatest. Wields the power of darkness itself, which manifests in a wide range of abilities: used a mechanical arm and sword before gaining such powers.

The Sorceress: Ithlian. Heard of Dr. Strange? The Sorceress is him on steroids. Despite such immense power, her overestimation of her abilities did not fare well for her in her attempts to conquer the world. As said, not as amusing in 'reality' as she is here. As she said before, she has a spell for everything.

Kurai: After Robin and Terra fell through, Kurai became Slade's permanent apprentice. Obsessed with honor and proving his superiority as a warrior (he's Japanese, but that doesn't mean anything, really). Kurai's family talent is a rare martial arts style known as "_Bachi no Kami_" (roughly translated, "Punishment of the Gods") which allows him to wield immensely destructive energy, as well as increasing his strength. Gets angry easily and doesn't suffer fools gladly: unfortunately he sees a lot of the world as fools.

The White Hole: Rebecca Styles (English approximation of her alien name Rebecalnatrac Styilnifanalan). The best of the best of the best of the best of the warrior Blacktrinian race, the White Hole. Unfortunately, she's also by nature as savage as a whole rainforest of rabid animals, and she has immense strength and skill to back it up. She only behaves because the Lord makes her…and even then…

Killjoy: Mythical assassin so skilled he was thought to be an urban legend even by Batman (until he tried and failed to assassinate the Titans, all good things must come to an end). A superman with one gun, a god with two. Never speaks. The very essence of a sociopath, with eyes like the Arctic.

Asphyxiation: Jack Djinn. Psychotic and sadistic Australian with a unique red energy talent called the Grimmer which can performs various tasks of strength and shapeshifting: it also serves as his hands after a battle resulted in the original flesh and blood ones being amputated. Violent misogynist who likes to strangle women (who he calls 'pretty birdies') to death, though he'll enjoy killing anyone he can. Far more often called by his first name Jack then by his codename, as Asphyxiation doesn't really roll off the tongue.

The Handyman: Remember Al Borland from the show _Home Improvement_? Take his basic character traits and make him a supervillain. Need I say more?

The Brick: Dr. Henry Vogel. The ever-present brilliant scientist whose attempt to cure a deadly degenerative disease worked too well: not only did his body recover it began to grow stronger beyond all human limits…with an unfortunate decrease in mental facilities at the same time, resulting in an incredibly strong dunce, more a villain due to being easily manipulated then by choice. Called the Brick because he's as strong, tough, and intelligent as one. Sadly, his condition ensures that he may yet become a brain-dead slab of muscle…

Doctor Westminster: A newcomer to the villain scene, past and motives unknown. Seems to have an enhanced skeletal structure (his skin is covered by flexible bone armor) with some ability to control it, making his bones deadly weapons (and ones that seem capable of swiftly regenerating themselves). Unfortunately, from the painkillers he carries, one will assume this ability is fairly agonizing.

Nightwalker: Sine (whether this is her first or last name is unknown, assumed first). Former Hive member who once concealed her sex on the basis that only males were taken seriously in attempts to learn combat and fighting skills. Has a slight metahuman ability that makes her a touch above human parameters in strength, speed, agility, and reflexes: also has varied but scattershot training in hand to hand combat, wears a cobbled together armored suit complete with a newly built high tech version of the motorcycle helmet she wore to disguise her identity and gender once, and wears special gauntlets on each arm that fire small orbs at high speed and with powerful impact (occasionally with a nasty surprise hidden inside).

And the only one to have experienced the Boogeymen effect before, as she was a member of the Hive when it occurred last year. It appears that lighting has struck twice…

* * *

The best laid plans of mice and men were to ever be led astray, or so the saying went… 

But as she had been told so many times in her life, she was a woman. But it didn't seem Nightwalker was exempt from that saying, as her eyes flickered open.

It had happened again.

She'd thought it might…but never seriously. Time spent in hard reality had allowed a fog to creep over the incident that had exposed her to the Hive…and had actually been the trigger for her to stop hiding who she was. She tended to focus on that journey…not the madness that had begun it.

And as October had come around again, she had been struck by a sense of disquiet, albeit one her rational mind would not let her fully express. But her subconscious had, as Halloween had drawn close.

And so she had ended up here. In this place nicknamed the 'Villain's Café'. Was she a villain? She didn't know. She had enough murk in her motives to be let in, after all…but even so, she felt out of place. But that didn't matter. Because she'd thought, somewhere deep down, this would the last place something like that would happen again. There was surely too much power to allow it.

And she'd been wrong. And once again, she was trapped in the nightmare…

…Well, at least she was better off. She knew what to expect…and her subconscious worry had resulted in her lugging a personal briefcase of ammo into this place with her. And this wasn't a group of confused kids. These were the elite, the hardcore. Surely they…

The lights were flickering back on (every place always had a backup generator it seemed) when Nightwalker sensed it. She felt a bit…off.

She couldn't quite place it, but she really didn't feel like herself. She felt along her body, but found no wounds from the shockwave that had engulfed her and caused her to lose all sense of direction. She was lying on the ground near the bar it seemed, as she started getting up, trying to blink her vision back into working order. She didn't feel any pain…just a strange…

…softness?

Nightwalker blinked again as she shook her head, trying to fully rewire her senses. She couldn't lie here long. The attacks had begun in the Hive mere seconds after the effect had triggered, and Nightwalker had a feeling it might be even worse this time…

And she got up.

And she saw him.

And she knew what was wrong with her. And she knew how right she was. It _was_ worse.

There stood the Lord, in the middle of a bunch of wreckage that had once been a neatly arranged bar/restaurant. It was as if he'd been the only one to hold his feet.

He was staring, his eyes dark with simmering rage, at his hands.

His pink, flesh and blood hands.

The Lord of the Night. Shadow-god.

No more.

Whatever that effect had been, he had been at the center of it. And he wasn't the man he used to be.

Because he, quite literally, was now the man he used to be.

* * *

It had been surprisingly peaceful. Rather like jumping into water. First you were dry, and then you were wet. 

And caught off guard, again…he'd been unable to block or deflect it. He'd felt it reach into him, and yank his power away. His impatience to get the Orb up had kept him from casting any proper protection spells, and when the effect had triggered, for all his efforts, it had affected him as well.

It had robbed him of his essence. His glory. He could no longer feel the darkness. All he could feel was his accursed self.

Somewhere, he knew something, he didn't know what but he knew it existed, was laughing at him.

It only made the rage in his heart burn even brighter.

"…I'm…_mortal._" He hissed in a low tone between clenched teeth, as he stared at his hands…

Two hands. His shadow body had been transmogrified into a similar human form, rather then his old one that had certain injuries. That did not give him any comfort.

…The Orb.

He darted his head at the wall of artifacts.

Which pretty much now only existed in memory: said wall was now a shattered, burned wreck, various overloaded and destroyed magical doodads dangling from it, all of them destroyed in the chain reaction that had allowed the effect such might to reach in and even strip _him_ of his power…

But if the Orb was destroyed, the effect would be undone. Which meant that it was probably still intact. And if the wall where it had been attacked was destroyed…there was a good chance it was somewhere in this bar. He'd find it, and he'd get what belonged to him back…he'd probably have to manipulate the…

…The Sorceress.

A supreme master of magic, as the Lord turned his head towards where she had been before. Maybe she had been able to…

And then, as the Lord saw where she was now, he realized even she had not been spared.

She was sitting in the corner, her eyes dull with shock, her robes a tangled mess around her legs. She wasn't floating any more. The Lord couldn't tell if he'd ever seen her not floating. And that was the least of it. The aura she had was gone. The frailness of her body was now starkly observant, nothing to cloak or obscure it.

She too had had her powers stripped from her. Even she, a magician so great that the number of mages in a thousand realities that could match her could be counted on one hand.

This was no random error of judgment compounding on itself. Nothing like that could have had an effect like this.

It was almost as if it was fate.

But the Lord quickly dismissed that. He was a master of his own fate. This was not a downfall. Just a bump in the road.

And people were going to die for it.

"Ugh…did anyone get the number for that bullet train…?" Kurai asked as he pushed himself up from under a flipped table. "Master Slade…"

"I am here Kurai. Unharmed." Slade said as he got up from the semi-fall he'd taken. Kurai looked around and saw that Rose was nearly next to him, also getting up. His eyes began to narrow…

And then he saw her face, and that stopped.

It was subtle…but it was there. The spark of attention and interest that Rose had had in her remaining eye, the one that had maddened him so much with it's subtle-but-there amused twinkle that she'd stepped in and replaced him as Slade's No 1, the twinkle that kept flashing every time she one-upped him in any way, had…faded, just a tad. It was hard to place exactly how…but it had, as Rose began standing up, blinking.

And then she looked around, and Kurai saw a further deviation. This was nothing like the cool observation that Slade would have taught his daughter after a sudden attack, something he'd hammered into Kurai and surely Rose as well. No…this had an aspect of…amusement. As if, rather then trying to establish the situation, Rose was wondering what had happened…in the way of someone who had been looking for fun and been surprised along the way.

Like she didn't fully grasp the concept, and was too dumb to realize the danger in such a mindset.

"Ohhhhhh…what was that?" Rose said. And in her voice, Kurai didn't hear a trace of the cool calmness from before. Instead he heard…a teenage girl.

"…Oh, Slade-sama is not going to be happy about this…"

"Hey, what the fuck!" Came a sudden yell. A female yell, as Blackfire got up from where she'd fallen behind the bar. "What just happened? What the fuck kind of bar do you run, Lord? First robbers, and now…lightning or…whatever! _X'hal!_"

Slade's eyes were drawn to the cursing alien: apparently whatever despondency had possessed her before was gone. He noticed Killjoy nearby was also observing the alien, probably for the same reasons…or maybe he was annoyed at losing his dominoes and didn't like the noise.

"Shut up Komand'r." The Lord snapped.

"Oh WHAT did you say?" Blackfire snarled back.

"Want to blast me? Go ahead. Try." The Lord said. Blackfire snarled and thrust out her hands…which glowed a very dull purple for about half a second and fired a small stream of purple sparks.

"…Hey! What the fuck did you do to me?" Blackfire yelled.

"I didn't do anything. I'm afraid that this is quite beyond my control. Otherwise it wouldn't have affected me." The Lord said. "People, I do not have the time or the inclination to draw it out, so I'll just say it outright. Our powers have been sealed."

"What?" The White Hole said from where she was, also behind the bar (apparently tossed there).

"Our powers have been taken from us, Styles. Sealed away by immensely powerful magic. You don't believe how powerful, ask the Sorceress why she's sitting on the ground staring at the wall." The Lord said, pointing at the shocked magician. "Don't bother bitching, I don't like it any more then you do, and probably less."

The White Hole snorted.

"Maybe your powers have been taken away, but I'm fine. So don't lump me in with your newly admitted weakness." The alien said.

"Rebecca, I am NOT in the mood for-"

That was as far as the Lord got, as the White Hole suddenly swung up her arms and with a snarling yell slashed them down, the metallic claws crashing through the bar in front of her and reducing the entire section immediately before her to toothpicks, as the claws slammed into the ground so hard they rocked the whole building (though only a bit).

"Don't question me again." The White Hole said, as she stood up straight and began brushing herself off. The Lord stared.

"What the hell! Why can…!" Blackfire cursed, and then tried to fire a Blackbolt again, only to produce the same purple sparks. "Fuck!"

Blackfire, no slouch in the strength department either, then tried punching her own section of the bar. A loud crack signaled she had done some kind of damage to it, but part of the cracking noise may have been her hand, as she screamed and began cursing in Tamaranian as she held it.

"Wait, why is her power not sealed?" Jack snarled, and the Lord found himself looking at Jack's hands. Much to his surprise, they were still there…but duller. Fainter. "Someone better…"

"Hey Jack, catch." The Lord said, as he picked up a piece of wreckage and tossed it underhand at Jack. Instinctively, Jack did try and catch it…and did…or it seemed like it, as after a few fumbling motions the small piece of debris clattered to the ground.

"You trying to make a point, mate?" Jack said. "I don't care for tossers of any kind."

"Yes. A point. I said our powers have been sealed. That statement may need some refinement." The Lord said, as he walked over to where Punk Rocket, still lying dazed on the ground, was. The villain whose glasses being dumped on the electrical socket had caused the effect to trigger and put them in this mess.

"Get up." The Lord snapped.

"Wait sir, I…!" Punk Rocket protested as he did get up: he would normally be defiant, except he didn't have his guitar…and plus, the Lord scared him anyway.

"Go into my office. In the closet there will be a sealed black metal case. I want you to bring it to me. NOW." The Lord snapped. Punk Rocket didn't question the order, he was too eager to avoid punishment (even though the whole reason he got stuck in one place and fell over and spilled the drinks on the damaged electrical socket in the first place was the Lord's last use of his power before it was sealed). Maybe once he got his hands on his guitar, things would be different…

"My knowledge of magical artifacts is competent, but I am not an expert." The Lord said as he walked through the bar, noting once again the villains who were there (some of them hadn't gotten up yet or recovered from the blast). "I will attempt to consult with the resident expert. Ithlian, do you have any theories on these observed effects?"

"…how…I'm…can't…be…" The Sorceress said, more to herself then in any form of reply.

"The resident expert is currently out to lunch. Let's hope she gets back soon, this is not a time for an extended break." The Lord said as he stepped away from the Sorceress, still utterly in shock over the fact that her powers were sealed. In a part of him, the Lord wasn't really surprised. As furious as he was at losing (TEMPORARILY!) his powers, he could remember a time when he didn't have them. He could adapt back to that level of ability until he got back his rightful godhood. But the time when the woman/mystic called Ithlian was anything but the Sorceress had faded away into the mists of history. Faced with being only a little more then a human, if that, was paralyzing Ithlian's brain. The Lord hoped that wore off soon. He hated dead weight.

"Lacking the resident expert's opinion, I am only able to guess…"

And then there was a sudden rumbling, and then a pile of wreckage and part of a collapsed wall was pushed away as the Brick emerged from under it. The Lord looked at him…but across the room he couldn't see it.

That, in the end, didn't matter.

"Dear God in Heaven! I can think properly, and speak!" The Brick said, as the Lord arched an eyebrow. The Brick's dull monotone had been replaced by a rich baritone voice, lacking any hint of slowness. "I remember my schooling, my joys, my passions!…Wow, I have been really stupid. Slade, that wasn't nice hiring me as a support beam for your last base."

"You were a responsible adult and you agreed to it…" Slade, who was apparently checking the status of his personal equipment (his weapons, you perverts. As in his gun, you hentais!…Argh! As in the metal and plastic device that shoots metal projectiles that go into living things and hurt them, get your mind out of the gutter, geez!) said, before he realized just who he was speaking to and looked up.

"I must call you on the deception in your statement, Mr. Deathstroke. Such an abuse speaks little of you, even considering your reputation to the world." Brick said. Slade blinked with his remaining eye.

"As I was saying, I must amend my statement." The Lord said again, before any other conversation could start. "Due to this reaction, our powers have been sealed..."

"What? You mean you have no powers at ALL?" The Handyman gasped.

"Well if the ability to walk around and make dramatic speeches was a power…" The White Hole commented.

"Styles, quiet." The Lord said, well aware that if what he was theorizing was true, she could shred him into hamburger, but refusing to show the slightest touch of fear or intimidation. "And Handyman, were you not paying attention the first few times or are you simply an idiot?"

"Hey! Watch who…!" The Handyman yelled as he whipped out a hammer…that with a blur of his leg the Lord kicked out of his hand. "Aheh…carry on…wait, are you sure you have no powers?"

"Why do you care idiot? You don't have any powers yourself. That potentially makes you stronger then half the people in here now!" Mad Mod commented (far away from the White Hole, the Lord noted).

"Yeah, but metahumans make better shields…"

"SHUT UP!" The Lord snapped. "Our powers have been sealed. You can see the evidence all around you. Blackfire cannot summon her destructive energy. Doubtlessly Kurai cannot either."

"Do not presume to speak for me, darkling-san." Kurai said, as he raised his hands and flexed his fingers, the digits being coated in red energy…that faded after several seconds. "Even if you are mostly correct. I cannot muster much strength, nor for any length of time. But do not think this makes me any less a warrior, so speak wisely lest you never speak again."

"Are you _always_ on?" The Lord muttered. "Other examples: Brick's great strength was linked to his mental weakness. As a side effect of his strength being sealed, his intelligence had returned to normal levels, allowing him to speak in more then monosyllabic grunts. And if I really must provide more examples, you will notice that the newcomer known as Doctor Westminster no longer has a covering of bone over his skin."

Westminster, who had actually been looking at Blackfire's hurt hand (though she was rude and snippy about it), blinked, and then turned away as he hunted for a part of the bar that had a mirror. Much to his surprise, the Lord was right: pink skin now showed on his face where dull white bone had once been…which wasn't necessarily a good thing, as it meant he no longer had that protection. And…ugh, yanking and shooting bones out of his body had been bad enough before: he didn't want to consider it now.

"And as you can see, The Sorceress…has seen better days as well." The Lord said. He did not declare his own weakness. "However, as some of you may have noticed, those of you without actual skills, or subtle skills, are not so affected. How do you feel Slade?"

"…Fine." Slade said with no emotion, not giving a thing away. Hard to tell if he was lying. The Lord knew he had had chemical treatments that had resulted in Slade's ability to use 90 percent of his brain, as well as increase his body limits beyond natural human parameters, but the Lord was uncertain how much such an ability, especially one so ingrained into Slade's body, would be affected. Robin certainly pulled feats beyond human limits, and he didn't have any type of chemical enhancement or latent meta-genes. And Robin had also been unaffected by the last time the Orb of Archetypal had triggered in cue with this effect, which reminded the Lord how much he really should be looking for said Orb. Then again, if it was gone, the Lord didn't want anyone useful in the bar caught flat-footed over the problems they now faced.

"I'm ok here!" Rose said. Both Slade and the Lord glanced at Rose, noticing the slight change in her voice, while nearby, Kurai sweatdropped. He wasn't sure WHY: didn't something like this new mindset that had befallen Rose work in his advantage?

"And the other humans seem unaffected as well…and, I must notice, that Puppet King is still standing and moving, though he doesn't seem very alert." The Lord said, as he walked past the puppet and gave him a kick, which prompted a declaration of dislike of such treatment. "His life is magic. If all his 'power' were sealed, he'd just be a puppet. This, along with the White Hole's demonstration, has led me to believe that our powers have not been sealed fully."

Though, the Lord noted to himself, and only himself, that seemed to only apply to the ones who had been some distance from the Orb. He and the Sorceress had been right at ground zero…and it showed. What a pain in the ass.

"Indeed, considering the sheer amount of power in this bar combined, it is understandable why all of our respective powers could not be sealed completely, BUT, they have been sealed, to a GREAT degree. Jack's hands can barely maintain their tangibility, Blackfire and Kurai cannot use their blasting power, and the old gray mare she ain't what she used to be." The Lord said, pointing to the Sorceress with his thumb, as she was still on the ground and still in shock. "But, as demonstrated, we're not fully depowered."

"I'm not depowered at all, and if you say I am again I'll eat your guts." The White Hole snapped.

"Whatever. Because this nuisance is only half the problem." The Lord said. "There is another, far more aggravating affect. Now, some of you will not believe me, and some will have forgotten. But what has been unleashed is nothing less then fictional characters being brought into reality."

"…WHAT?" Jack said.

"Oh, you don't remember Jack? You were there! Drunk as hell, but there. You pitched a shit fit over losing your bet, remember?" The Lord said. He'd spied what he was looking for about twenty seconds ago, but had neglected to pick it up until now, as he reached down and scooped up a mangled hunk of foul-smelling materials that had once been Control Freak's remote. "You may not have understood me due to my angry ranting before, but I was attempting to remove Control Freak from this building before the chaos magic he can manifest and control through his construct here resulted in an extremely unusual and STUPID effect which I will call the 'horror atmosphere'. Basically, his stupid remote had allowed the monsters of horror films to come to life, as well as forcing anyone in the vicinity to act under the guidelines and rules of existence these films convey in their many efforts of cinematic trash. And now these monsters, since we were at the center of this effect, will more likely then not be coming after us."

The bar was silent.

And then Mumbo started cracking up…at least until Atlas hit him.

"Silence intoxicated human! You should not laugh at insane ramblings!"

"Oh, you think I'm making this up Atlas. You think this is all bullshit. Well, you can ask Slade. Or the White Hole. They were part of the group who observed the occasion last year…for entertainment purposes. Or you can ask Nightwalker. She lived through it."

"Uh…" Nightwalker said, really not wanting to bring up that she had briefly died in the climax of the nightmare. "…It's true. It was the exact same effect. It corrupted the area we were staying at…and it really did bring horror monsters to life. Movies and video games. And…it warped the atmosphere, the very fabric of reality of the place. Hallways moved around, turned into sections out of hell…worse. As ridiculous as it sounds…it's real. And we seem to have triggered…"

"No. We didn't. CONTROL FREAK did." The Lord snapped. "However, the assault on reality and general common sense that Nightwalker survived was not the first such incident. It was the second, as two years ago, on this very day, the Titans suffered the same occurrence when a short in their security system activated a remote of Control Freak's they had in their possession. The difference between their problem and the Hive's, though, was that their incident did not just involve the remote, but also activated another of the artifacts they had with them, the same one that has presently greatly reduced our powers: The Orb of Archetypal. In the Titans' case though, their powers were COMPLETELY sealed, leaving them little more then the teenage victims these creatures often seek in their garbage. Regrettably, none of them died, but as all of you surely know they show a cockroach level resistance to extermination."

Nightwalker decided not to point out that even if a Titan or two had died, Hive members HAD died, lots of them, and they had all returned to life when the horror atmosphere had been defeated, the act of banishing the chaos manifestations acting much like rewinding a tape (if you've stumbled across this piece of work sometime in the future, we used to watch movies on something called VIDEOTAPE, which had to be REWOUND. Hence this metaphor before DVD's or whatever entertainment medium you use took over and banished such a setup to the dustbin of the record player and the evening newspaper) and reversing everything that occurred, including her own death (and she had to stop thinking about that), and one could assume the same may have happened for the Titans.

"Despite my best efforts, this has happened here. The Orb has crippled our ability to respond, and the remote has allowed this nonsense to come and bother us…"

"Wait." Nightwalker said. "Control Freak was right when he said material was needed. The creatures that came after us only came out of the actual movies that we had in range of the effect, which seemed limited to the building we were in. Surely you don't…"

"I don't, but perhaps all of you were too busy being blinded by the pretty colors to see the power eruption escape from that damn hole in the roof and go to hell knows where. You can think if you like that it just plopped down in the sea, but I am not so stupid." The Lord snapped. "I doubt material on the spot will be required. I think this time the chaos magic sought what it needed. And what it found will be…"

And Punk Rocket, gasping for air, finally got back to the Lord, dragging a huge black metal case.

"Sorry! It was…well hidden…in the back." Punk Rocket said, as he dropped it at the Lord's feet.

The Lord didn't answer, as he knelt down and, with quick fingers, undid the several locks on the case and opened it up. Not many of the villains inside were at the proper angle to see what was inside it, but the Lord look satisfied, as he reached down and lifted something up.

A cyborg arm. Once, it had completely replaced the Lord's right limb, but when the Lord has ascended it had been discarded as unnecessary. But sometimes you formed attachments to certain things, and the Lord had found this was one of them, and he'd rebuilt it. Now he needed it, as he pressed a variety of buttons on it, and as the arm began to whir and open up the Lord pressed it against his right arm, trying to keep his face blank as it dug in, reattaching itself in a far from pleasant process.

It took about fifteen seconds, and then the Lord rose up, his right arm encased in the super high tech technology, as long black claws sprang from his fingers. Punk Rocket's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"…Thank you Punk Rocket." The Lord said. The rocker relaxed.

And then the Lord aimed his arm at the villain as a gun emerged and blew him away, as Punk Rocket flew backwards with a scream and landed on the ground, quite dead, blood leaking from his shattered form.

"You're fired Punk Rocket." The Lord said, the low but potent vehemence in his voice stripping any iota of humor the unintentional bad pun may have had. With his old arm back on, the Lord had quickly been reminded of what he had lost, and he'd taken it out on the one he viewed responsible. It didn't matter that technically HE had made Punk Rocket fall down. He'd fallen, and now he wouldn't be getting up.

"And when we find Control Freak, because I know he's still in here, I'm going to feed him his own ample guts." The Lord said.

"Not if I find him first." The White Hole growled, the scent of blood in her nostrils awakening her battle instincts, not to mention she wasn't exactly happy at being stuck in such a situation as the Lord was telling them they were in. She was a warrior, but war was not a place for comedy or absurdity, and this problem sounded like it had them both in spades. Talk about spoiling the broth.

"I may beat you both there, but I must ask, 'Lord', do you have a point to all your panegyric babbling or are you just indulging in your well known and overwrought love of hearing yourself talk?"

"Oh believe me Slade, I have one HELL of a point." The Lord said, as he walked over to the wall nearby and pushed a button. A panel slid open, and a very long and decorated katana slid out on a pedestal: the Lord snatched it up as he started walking back. "First of all, we are going to find that Orb. I believe that it is still somewhere in this bar. Maybe if it is, and we can find it, we can swiftly dispose of this most-vexing bullshit that is our powers being curtailed and solve the main problem even more swiftly. And if by some chance someone or something has, by some way, stolen away into the night with that Orb, we will do what we do best, and hunt them down." The Lord said, as he pulled the long, gleaming sword out, a metallic ring sounding through the air. It was a very nice blade, and Slade knew his weapons. "You see Slade, this is not like the last two times. We not only know quite well what we are facing, as vacuous as the whole concept is, but we are not a group of teenagers. We are not the victims. We are the ones who run this world, now or eventually. We are the ELITE."

The Lord spun his sword briefly, looking around at the bar. Wouldn't be easy controlling or manipulating all of them, even if he said it was for their own best interest to get their powers back. It would probably be best if he allied with Slade instead of trying to subordinate him, and not stab him in the back, if there was a point to it.

"A lot of people call us the bad guys. A lot of people also watch the junk that may have manifested to stalk us. We don't get stalked, we do the stalking, and a lot worse. These entities…they claim to inspire terror. WE are the ones who know terror, not them! They inspire as much mockery and laughter as they do fear, if any! It is an insult to the path we walk, and I will not stand for it. So I say this. They want to come after us? They will find we are not the Titans, and we are not a bunch of half-witted teenage wannabes lead by a roboted-up would be cultist who cooked what was left of his brain when he mechanized half of it. We are the bad guys. And if they want a war, they will find out why I once made Death of the Endless herself weep."

"Gah! Sir! You should not speak of an Endless that…" Puppet King said before the Lord kicked him again, sending him flying.

"I will speak of anyone any way I choose. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I am the Lord of the Night! And Death…she knows what she is, and what I am." The Lord chuckled darkly. "They wanna scare me? I'll show them the REAL definition of a nightmare…!"

The sound was part suction and part cracking as the finger blades exploded from the Lord's chest.

A fine mist of blood splattered on the floor in front of him.

The bar went dead silent. It took a lot to shock villains one and all…but this had done it.

As the Lord stared down at the blades, coated with blood…his blood…he was bleeding…

His eyes flashed with anger.

"…I…am the LORD…OF THE NIGHT…!" The Lord snarled as he reached up and seized the blades. "What I speak of…is not a manifestation…of a love…of excessive hyperbole…!"

And the Lord actually began to SHOVE THE BLADES OUT.

"I am…the darkness…in all hearts…and souls…I am…the future ruler…of this world…!" The Lord hissed as he continued to push. "And I…will not be…shoved off…this coil…in such a manner!"

And the blades were forced out.

And then, with a second, more powerful crunch, shoved back in, as they exploded anew from the Lord's chest.

More blood sprayed on the ground before him.

And with that…the overwhelming fury seemed to fade a bit, as the Lord slumped, just a tad, the fire in his eyes replaced by more of a stunned expression.

"…Heh…heh…oh…the shame…" The Lord whispered. "…Perhaps…I should not have spoken…so ill of Death herself…the Lord…done in by this…pop culture…bullshit…it's almost…to laugh……fuck." The Lord coughed. " _'O lente, lente, currite noctis equi.' "_

And the Lord toppled, his sword clattering to the ground. Rendered mortal once more…and paying the price.

As the man behind him drew back his clawed glove with a nasty chuckle, admiring his handiwork.

You didn't have to watch any horror films to know who he was. He'd clawed his way into his own part of cinematic history. Everyone knew who he was.

But the survivor spoke his name.

"Freddy Krueger." Nightwalker said.

"Yes! Ladies and gentlemen, the bastard is BACK!" Freddy Krueger declared with a flourish of his clawed glove. It was him, in the hideously burned flesh. It wasn't the actor Robert Englund in makeup putting on a show. It WAS Freddy Krueger, the child killer turned dreamstalker of Elm Street, given hideous life and power once more. "Welcome to the greatest grand guignol the world has ever seen!"

Killjoy actually beat Slade to the draw as both of them whipped out guns and opened fire.

"ARGH! HEY! I GET 45 SECONDS BEFORE THE ACADEMY PLAYS ME OFF THE STAGE!" Freddy yelled as the bullets tore through his body, even as Nightwalker snapped out of it and added her own orb launcher to the barrage.

It took about nine seconds for all the ammo to click dry.

"Huh, tough crowd." Freddy said, looking down at the mass of gore his body had become, spots of red and green sweater poking through. "That's my favorite shirt!"

And in a blink of an eye, it was all gone. All damage negated, ceasing to exist. Like it had been a dream.

"That's my only shirt." Freddy finished commenting, as he made a slight adjustment to his ever-present fedora, his tone now lower and nastier in edge.

Slade and Killjoy weren't paying attention: they were in the midst of reloading and bringing their guns back up.

"Oh just DROP IT!" Freddy snarled, as he slashed out his clawed hand, and the guns Slade and Killjoy were holding were abruptly slashed apart, the pieces flying away as the two recoiled, holding their hands as open wounds began to bleed. "You pieces of shit talk a big game, but you don't seem to be able to keep up when it comes to action."

"GRARGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" The White Hole snarled: she admittedly had no idea who Krueger was, but a challenge was a challenge, as she lunged at the legendary slasher…

Freddy sidestepped her so easily he made it look simple. It wasn't. He was cheating, as he whirled and slapped the White Hole across the back of the head. It shouldn't have even fazed her, but somehow the blow made stars explode before her eyes.

"Take a hike, dyke." Krueger snapped, as he grabbed the alien and then hurled her across the bar, as she crashed down onto a pile of overturned tables and chairs. "I didn't come to play my A-game immediately! I got a piss-poor showing the first time and was left off the bill the second time around! Not this time! This time, I'M RUNNING THIS SHOW." Krueger cackled. "You think you're hot shit? You think you're bad? It's time to show you, just like I showed him, who's really to fear in this world."

And then, in a rather abrupt shift in mood, Freddy seemed to notice the Lord's cyborg arm.

"Huh. Nice setup. I have been looking to upgrade for a bit." Freddy said, and with one quick jerk he tore the Lord's cyborg appendage free, along with a fair bit of flesh on his arm. "Now, let me tell you how it's going to go…"

Screaming, the While Hole dove in for an attack again.

Freddy ducked and she flew over his head and crashed through the wall of artifacts. Cheating was so good for making your enemies look like the Keystone Kops.

"You were looking for this?" Freddy said, as she suddenly produced the Orb of Archetypal from behind his back. "Ah, I thought so. Well, tough shit. Movie's just begun. And THIS time, NO ONE'S making it to the final reel! Welcome to my nightmare, bitches! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

And just like that Freddy was gone, vanished into the wind, taking the Orb (and the Lord's arm) with him, leaving only the fading sound of his cruel, harsh laughter.

The villains stared at where he had been. Slade in particular looked at the Lord's body, laid low partly by his own arrogance…and partly by what the chaos magic had spawned into their lives. Hunting them.

And then, in yet another delayed reaction, Handyman screamed and then hid behind Brick. The sound drilled into Slade's ears.

"This…is going to be even more irritating then he said." Slade said.

* * *

"It's too quiet out there." Nightwalker said as she came back into the bar. 

Only a few minutes had passed since the Lord's sudden death and Freddy's declaration, but Nightwalker was amazed at how little had changed. Handyman was still hiding behind Brick while babbling, Sorceress was still in the corner, and the Lord still remained where he had been cut down. Not wanting to be frozen by the same sense of stunned inertia (if she let it overwhelm her, would she ever move again?), Nightwalker had decided to see if the front door still existed, and if it did, if it lead anywhere. It did still exist, and it did still lead out into the alleyway, and the alleyway did still seem to lead out into the street…except Nightwalker had been struck by a disquiet even more profound then her previous one, as she had quickly looked around the alleyway and then retreated back to Moriarty's.

Slade looked over at her: he was the only one who wasn't just standing around. After Freddy had disappeared, he'd sat down and pulled out some kind of small tube, which apparently contained some kind of medicine for his hands, a liquid skin of some sort that he'd sprayed on the several cuts Freddy's attack had left. Attacks which had gone through his metallic mesh armored gloves, which annoyed Slade, but the wounds were only superficial, as he produced a replacement pair from somewhere on his outfit and slipped them over his hands.

"It's usually very quiet out there to begin with." Slade said as he looked at Nightwalker, who pressed a button and disassembled her helmet again, the tech reforming into armor on her shoulders and the back part of her costume from which her twin thin capes sprouted from, made of a light material that gave the impression of wings when Nightwalker jumped through the air. She reached up and undid the knot of hair on the back of her head, letting her red locks flow freely again.

"Yes. But considering what has happened…I was expecting noise. Distant screams, car crashes, any kind of racket that indicates a disruption of the norm…but there's nothing like that. NOTHING. It's like everyone's cowering in their homes…or like we'd been cut off from the rest of the world." Nightwalker said. "And we may very well have been."

"How? You have said nothing about any alterations of our location, so I can assume there have been none. So can it really be said that we have been cut off from the world?" Slade replied, as he flexed his fingers. No pain, no sense of weakness. Good.

"That could change." Nightwalker said.

"Ah yes, you are the only one of us to have actually experienced this phenomenon, as it were. Observing can't really allow understanding." Slade said, as he looked at the young woman. "So tell me Miss Sine, with the Lord's folly still steaming up from his corpse, will you take his place as leader?"

It wasn't quite a deer caught in the headlights, but it was similar enough, the expression that came over Nightwalker's face. Which was unfortunate, as Slade knew she didn't harbor any desires to try and lead this motley crew thrown together by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Slade preferred more subtle beginning for certain things then outright announcing them (hence why he'd sent the Troika after the Titans as his first move rather then going himself, among other things), and he figured this was better.

"…No sir. No." Nightwalker said, lowering her head. Slade gave the most imperceptible of nods: the young woman was humble and knew her place without a trace of sycophancy. Good. Considering her raw potential, he'd have hated it if she'd instead exhibited the arrogance of youth and tried to assume said youth made her better then him, which would have forced him to take sanctions. As she was though, she allowed him the perfect opening.

"Very well then. As Miss Sine is declining for her own reasons, and the Lord cooling as we speak, and with the rest of you with your powers sealed…"

"SLADE!" The White Hole snapped in a snarling, vicious tone.

"Ah, except for Miss Styles of course. But Miss Styles, I must ask, would you rather attempt to lead, or would you rather wreck havoc and carnage as only you can?"

"You know the answer Wilson."

"Then I ask that you at least consider my words, and I guarantee you, you will get your fill of slaughter."

"I doubt even you can provide that Wilson." The White Hole said, but she didn't challenge him any more.

"With that exception…" Slade said: he would have normally said that POSSIBLE exception but best not to stir up the White Hole any more. "None of you seem to have any more powers."

"AHHHHHHHHH!" The Handyman yelped from behind Brick. Slade jerked, expecting a possible new threat…and then, seeing none, realized that Handyman was just reacting to the problem of those with powers having them sealed. He narrowed his eye slightly, wondering if the rather silly 'villain' had a natural problem with delayed reactions or if he'd simply taken too many blows to the head.

"Are you quite done, Handyman?"

"No! I still have to wake up from this nightmare!"

"My dear friend Tom, while I understand your distress, such actions as you are constantly invoking now, especially with your strange belated reactions to certain things already stated, will hardly help you, let alone anyone." The Brick said (apparently Handyman's real name was Tom).

"…Brick's talkin' normal. I wasn't imagining it. …Too crazy to be a dream." The Handyman said, and finally emerged from behind the massive form of Brick. "So…what's the game plan?"

"I shall tell you idiotic fools…" Came a sudden new voice. New as in it had not spoken for some time.

Psimon had been keeping to himself since the humiliation the Lord had foisted on him, but with the Lord now dead and gone, Psimon saw the perfect time to make his move.

"I have remained silent until now, to decide upon something! For as the White Hole has demonstrated, not all of our powers have been sealed! And mine, while not immune, have been affected far less then the rest of you, and even had they not, even in this state I have more then enough power to command you! So you shall answer to me!"

Everyone stared at Psimon.

"Do not look upon me like dullards! You know very well of my power, and what it can do! So obey me, or have obedience FORCED UPON YOU!"

Slade would have said something then, except he was beaten to the punch.

"The positronic brain of Atlas is beyond your power to command, even if your powers were not disabled! Which you have offered no proof of them not actually being!" Atlas declared.

"So you defy me. Very well! I shall show you! Here is your test, before you are pounded to scrap! Brick! GET ME A DRINK!"

"I hardly feel compelled to do so, especially since you have no intent to pay for it, from the sounds of it." Brick replied.

Silence.

"Dude, BURN!" Adonis declared from where he was.

"Uh…er…" Psimon said, as he sweatdropped. "I thought you were really suggestible."

"This phenomenon has cured me of that." Brick replied.

"Er…yes well…I must….uh…!" Psimon said, searching for the right words.

And then Puppet King, moving more slowly then normal, popped up from behind some rubble, walked over to Psimon, and violently kicked him in the ankle.

"OW!" Psimon yelled, as he began to hop up and down on one leg.

"It worked! He never saw me coming! His powers are as negated as all of us in here! I have saved you all from this doubt!" Puppet King celebrated.

And Psimon stopped hopping to kick Puppet King across the bar again.

"I should have said that somewhere ELLLLLSEEEEE-!"

CRASH!

"Whoo! Distance record!" Rose declared, as Slade gave a sidelong glance to his daughter, who was sitting at a table next to where he was standing. Was it really his daughter that just said that or had Slade misheard…

"Atlas expresses his condolences. That was the least entertaining spectacle that Atlas has ever witnessed. Pathetic." Atlas said.

"Do you wish for me to blast him into the next life Slade-sama?" Kurai asked.

"Hey! I'm warning you! I may have been attempting to bluff, but not fully!" Psimon snapped, pointing. "Do not forget who I am! You know what I've done! My powers may be nearly down to nothing, but my years of training in them have not lessened in the least! And it does not take much force to pinch shut certain veins in cerebral matter! Unlike the now 'dearly departed' Lord, I know you have a mind susceptible to that Wilson!"

"As you say Jones. Listen, there is no need to fight amongst ourselves. Isn't that what always happens?" Slade said.

"Plus, the atmosphere will be in play. It will be working on us, trying to forcibly alter us, how we think, how we act. To kill us." Nightwalker added. She did not say to Slade that his daughter seemed to have already fallen prey to a huge dose of that atmosphere. If she didn't know Rose Wilson, she could have sworn the girl was a…bimbo.

"Thank you Miss Sine. As you see, Jones, we are all in the same boat here. Yet you wish to argue over who should lead. Now, I'm not going to ask WHY you think you should lead, because I already known the answer. So, your powers are not sealed?"

"You know the answer Wilson. They are still useable, even reduced in range and scope."

"Do you know of a method to undo this problem immediately?" Slade asked.

"Sadly, no. This sort of thing is beyond even my vast experience." Psimon said, as he crossed his arms and did his best to look arrogantly bored.

"So you can't aid us in our problem."

"That doesn't matter. Aiding others is what our enemies do. You forget the rules Slade, even in this strange state. We do whatever works best for us."

"And that, of course, would be all of us under your command." Slade said. "Even with the powers in this room sealed."

"Which...shouldn't have happened." Came another new voice, and Slade looked over to see the Sorceress, having somehow gotten to her feet. But her ability to walk was clearly low, and Slade didn't think it was just because of the long robe she was wearing. The Sorceress floated everywhere, hovering on her power. Said power that was now gone. Slade wouldn't be surprised if her leg muscles had atrophied, as the Sorceress stumbled and had to grab onto a chair to keep from falling, as she managed to set herself down on it.

"What, Ithlian?" Slade asked.

"The Orb was…on the wall…triggered this…because the Lord had to replace the original part of the mesh we'd set up. The Seal of Vioxx. Same basic principles of the Orb…but the Seal had been carefully charmed with a large variety of spells to make sure it would only affect certain others. The Lord stuck the Orb of Archetypal on the wall and left it there before I could put anything similar on it. Hence this…abomination." The Sorceress said. "But the whole reason the Seal was taken down…was because it had been damaged in the gunfight that happened in here."

Silence. Slade turned back to Psimon.

"Yes, that interesting incident. Which, if I recall, the Lord insinuated you started with your mental powers, using them to manipulate those fools right into their early graves. For your own amusement, if I recall." Slade said.

"Um, er, I wanted to see how things played out." Psimon said…and then lifted a hand. "Hold it! I'm watching you Slade! I WILL act if necessary."

"Oh no need Psimon. Surely you or anyone else had no idea what your actions would lead to…except the possibility that we could have been harmed by said actions."

"I plead the fift-"

BLAM!

Psimon's sarcastic reply was abruptly cut off by the boom of the gunshot, as it reverberated through the bar. No one had actually seen Slade make his move, as he'd snatched his arm down, seized the gun on his daughter's leg holster, drawn it, and fired. Who cared what that Orb had supposedly done? He was still Deathstroke the Terminator.

Something Psimon should have known from the beginning, as a thin trailer of liquid began trickling out from the large hole that had appeared in his plastic forehead, as he slowly fell over with a thud, not rising again. In normal situations Psimon's immense mental powers would have still been able to block the bullet, despite Slade's insane reflexes. Said lack of normalcy was why The Lord's body was cooling on the ground next to its new co-occupant.

"Judge Colt and his Jury of Six have no need of a constitution." Slade said dryly, as he spun the gun's barrel into his hand and gave it back to hi daughter. "Reload that Rose."

"Ok!" Rose replied, as Slade started turning away…and then stopped. Ok? She'd said ok? She should have said yes sir, or yes father, no…Slade's secondary glance at her showed she was indeed reloading her gun, her fingers having lost none of their skill. Just what was this strangeness he couldn't nail down though? He would have to figure that out.

"Now…I'd rather get to solving this problem. So if anyone wants to leave, feel free too. But considering what Miss Sine had said, it does not sound like a situation where going alone will be in your best interest."

Slade did hope one or two would leave. Jack, definitely, and Atlas would probably be troublesome as well. In the end, no one did leave. Slade guessed he'd have to take the bad with the good here, or in this case, the psycho-sadist bad and the megalomaniac bad along with the more malleable bads.

"Very well then. I must think of this situation a bit. Until then, one would assume, drinks are on the house." Slade said. "Styles, I must make a request. Behind that bar, you should locate a shotgun. It belongs to me. I was wondering if you could lower yourself to find it and give it to me." Slade said. He would have told Adonis to do it, except he was handing out liquor bottles…and giving some people high-fives. That was rather inappropriate, and strange. So he asked the White Hole.

"Don't push me Slade. I can always strike out on my own, or just settle for butchering you and yours. Blood is blood." The White Hole replied, but she did look briefly behind the bar, and she did find the shotgun. True, she threw it at him, but Slade wasn't expecting much else.

"Well Miss Styles, if you do, a piece of friendly advice. You may not wish to do so in those clothes."

"Wha…" The White Hole said, as she looked down at her waitress outfit, which consisted of a mini skirt, a tight shirt with a military cravat, and an apron that said Moriarty's, as well as thigh high tights and special shoes for her clawed feet (one must note that the Lord's other 'employees' did wear a uniform as well, but Punk Rocket was dead, Puppet King has discarded his, and Adonis didn't wear one due to his robot suit). It wasn't exactly the most concealing outfit…and that was before Freddy had tossed her through the wall and shredded it. In fact, she was showing considerably more skin then she cared to (even if she really didn't care on another level, she'd gladly fight naked if she had to…but she didn't). With an annoyed snarl, she stomped off into the back, assumingly to change.

"Why the Lord employed her, I am at a loss." Slade said to himself, as he did a quick check over the high tech weapon to make sure it was still in full working order (it was), and then sat down next to the Sorceress at her 'table'. "I was under the impression you were a babbling wreck."

"I got over it." The Sorceress muttered. "This whole mess is all the Lord's fault anyway. He was always too arrogant for his own good."

"Yes, I know."

"However, he was mostly right in his theories. The Orb was powerful, especially with the other artifacts it was linked to…but we are not the Titans. Our powers have not been fully sealed, most likely due to the fact there was too much power in the room to seal. Maybe if it had just been the Lord and…myself…" The Sorceress semi-hissed the last word. "It might have been able to pull it off. But with all the other power in the room, it was forced to spread itself too thin. So while it managed to seal all our powers…and just a note, the White Hole's powers have been sealed too. But she would never admit any kind of weakness, even if it exists."

"Not surprised."

"While our powers were sealed, the Lord was right: the seal was incomplete. How do you feel Wilson?"

"Perfectly fine. Perhaps a bit older then usual, but fine nonetheless."

"I suppose that's to be expected. The Orb was designed in such a way to seal more elaborate powers anyway. I barely feel like I could muster a twentieth of my usual strength. Then again, I was standing right next to it, and that seemed to be a factor, as the Lord is dead now. But the seal may not only be stretched too thin. It might be leaking as well."

"Leaking?"

"Picture, if you will, a cork glued into the end of a pipe. Now run water through the pipe. The pipe will start leaking, and if the cork can't be removed, eventually burst. I think the Orb's seal on our powers, due to the amount, is similar."

"So you're saying eventually our powers will come back by themselves."

"Yes…I think they may have started restoring themselves already…but I have no idea what the rate of it is. It could take a few hours…days, who knows, and it might not come back in full. The only way to fully restore our abilities, from your enhanced body to my ultimate skills in magic…is to find and smash the Orb. Which is, of course, why Freddy Krueger took it." The Sorceress said.

"So what are you planning to do?"

"Me? Slade, if there was something I could do, I would have taken the reins by now. But as it stands, I can barely muster enough energy to kept my form from falling apart. You, I guess, are in charge. What do YOU plan to do?"

"Our abilities could be restored by smashing the Orb…what about this other problem?"

"You mean the chaos magic unleashing creatures from fiction? Oh, that will be considerably harder…but as you remember last year, the required method seems to find the 'key tape', ie whatever was first touched by the power eruption. But unlike the last few times where the source came from on site, in this case it could be anywhere. Maybe if I had some more power I could track it…but I just went over why I can't."

"Hmmmm. Very well." Slade said, as he crossed his fingers over the lower half of his mask. "I will give this some thought."

And Slade did just that. Sorceress glanced around the bar, and for a moment her teeth went back on edge. Nearly helpless, and in with this group. This was why she had never derided companionship as weakness, though she never cared for it herself. Having fellows in a situation like this would be very helpful…except she'd never expected to need them. She was the Sorceress, and she barely tolerated working alongside the Lord. And even if she'd been different, this was the whole wrong moral side to find helpers. But she'd never thought such a factor would count for her…then again she'd never expected for her awakening to turn out the way it had either, the way that had landed her in this bar in the first place.

And so she looked back at Slade…and noticed something.

It wasn't so much an expression as it was an aura of sorts, faint but perceptible to even her current (nearly non-existent) level of power. And it bothered Sorceress.

Slade had a brilliant mind, even she'd admit that…but she could clearly see he was going about this the wrong way. By the wrong way, Slade was approaching this as if it was just another threat to his life. Looking at Freddy Krueger just as another challenge.

That was not the proper way to think. You not only had to consider the threat. You had to consider the absurd NATURE of the threat. You needed to accept that the rules you had played by just didn't work any more. You had to look through the world at a brand new angle, and not even fighting teenage heroes and being virtually immortal helped form it. Perhaps if in this world's timeline Slade Wilson had become the pawn of Trigon as he had in another, more well known source he would have been better prepared, but many things had happened differently in this world, and Slade had never had that experience here.

For lack of a better term, Slade was simply too…MATURE to properly understand what was happening.

And that could cost him dearly, Sorceress knew. Because she'd seen how the chaos magic had forced its way onto reality and perception. And for all Slade's greater skills, his mindset was far more rigid then the average teenager. And if this 'atmosphere' applied force to it, unlike the minds of the young before, who all had a certain flexibility, that certain 'immaturity'…

Sorceress wondered what would happen when it did dawn on Slade's mind, by realization or force. Would it mean his death? Or something else?

Even if she had her powers, the Sorceress wouldn't have known.

But she did not warn Slade. She knew there was no point. He would not understand.

And who knew what would be left when he did.

"Hey! You're…pink!" Adonis declared, as he came to Doctor Westminster. The Doctor stared at the man in the robot suit. He knew his bone armor was gone, but there was a certain something in Adonis' tone that made his comment more then an observation. Westminster wasn't sure he liked it, but he decided to keep quiet for the moment. With his powers as low as they were, he wouldn't have much of a chance against the robotically empowered bartender.

"…Yes…yes." Westminster said, as he made a minute adjustment to his hat.

"Cool! Wanna drink?"

"No. Considering the current situation, I believe it would be more detrimental then helpful."

"Uh….what?"

"…No. Thank you." Westminster said, and sipped his water. Adonis moved on, and Westminster wondered if the power blocker, unable to take anything in metahuman terms from Adonis, had taken something in mental terms instead.

As Adonis went over to where Blackfire was sitting and set down a glass in front of her. Blackfire stared for a moment, then picked up the drink and sipped it…and spat it out.

"Hey! IDIOT!" Blackfire yelled.

"Huh?"

"I ordered a B&T! This is a B&B you moron! Are you so fucking brain-dead you can't even tell letters of your alphabet apart?"

"…Huh?" Adonis said again.

"Oh _dort_, this is why I don't come to these piece of shit earth bars. Even when they're being staffed by aliens they're crappy, and when we have humans oh man, look out, we can make our planet a universal centerpiece but we can't mix a drink right! Then again that just might be you fuckface! Were you born this stupid, or did your mom drop you on your head and then stamp on it? Or did you have to work on it! I've seen some shitty service, but this is up to my eyeballs in it! Just like every other piece of garbage thing about this bar, and the people who come here! You _zargta _sapiens!"

"Uh…?" Adonis said, still confused.

"You fuckers messed everything up! I was fine until I came onto this planet! I knew myself! I was pure! And then you humans, you poisoned me, you introduced all your confusions and your ambiguities into my emotions, you took what I knew and you made it a mess…you brought me down…I had the powers of _X'hal herself_ and you HUMANS beat me by talking…I lost it all…I didn't know what to do…well no more! I know who I am, and quite frankly, you don't deserve to serve me you piece of _Klorb!_"

Adonis seemed to have finally gotten over his mental confusion, as he stared with somewhat offended eyes at the snapping alien.

"Well you can always leave bi…lackfire." Adonis caught himself. Blackfire's eyes blazed.

"Don't you tell me what to do you fucking peon!" Blackfire snapped, and thrust out her hand.

A slightly larger spray of purple sparks emerged. Adonis chuckled.

Then Blackfire's brandy snifter shattered against his head, and Adonis stumbled back.

"I'll leave when I'm damn well ready, and that won't be until you make my fucking drink you _clorbag varblernelk!_" Blackfire yelled as she grabbed a nearby bottle of alcohol and slung it at Adonis. It didn't hit him in the head this time, but the spray of shattered glass and liquor caused him to stumble back and fall down.

"And that's why they're only good for killin', ya wanker." Jack commented as he drank from the bottle of scotch he'd obtained. Westminster, on the other hand, was keeping a carefully guarded eye on Blackfire, puzzling over her attitude change and if she even realized the situation she was in. Didn't seem to.

"So Johnny, I guess there are advantages to not having 'real' powers, aren't there?" Mad Mod commented. Good thing his youth stealing cane was based on custom designed high tech, or he'd be an old man again, not that he minded being old at times, but in a situation like this it was decidedly inconvenient.

"Guess so Moddie." Johnny Rancid replied, and looked at Melchior, whose paper body was now sagging and disheveled. "Hey man, you don't seem as perky as you were before."

"Oh shut up. You heard the darkling before he was killed. Magic is how my consciousness exists in this realm. I can barely hold my body together without you making snide remarks about it. Merlin help me if I lose what little concentration I have."

"So, like I said, there are certain advantages." Mad Mod said.

"May I just point out…" Brick said as he stepped near the table. "The fact that lacking powers just means you did not have them severely negated. Which makes you just as vulnerable to the upcoming attacks. Except maybe Atlas…."

"Because Atlas is the Mightiest, The Best, and should be worshipped as a GOD!" Atlas boomed.

"Yeah yeah mate. We're busy now. Try again next Tuesday." Jack called from the bar, and Atlas got up and stomped over to argue with him.

"…Yes Brick…" Mad Mod said, still not used to talking to the giant like he had any sort of brain in his head. "But we're USED to no powers. It won't hurt us any."

"Ah. So I assume you have a full compliment of robots and gear ready to aid in your defense against these monsters which are supposedly coming?"

"You kidding? I'm on the last dregs of my current charge and without that I'm an old man. All Johnny's got is a couple of little guns and I can suck one of our attackers and take out their youth. And smack them on the 'ed. That's about all."

"Well then my friends, you may wish to rethink your opinion of no powers not hurting you any. While I am weakened enough so that my mind is clear again, my strength is still many times that of a mortal man. I can defend myself as best I can. Can you?"

"…I liked you better before you became the Logic Police." Rancid commented.

"Yeah, really, is there anyone else we can talk to? Where did Mumbo get off to?" Mad Mod said. "'Ell, even Control Freak would be better. Have we found a body yet?"

"We have not yet located him. Perhaps he is concealed under some rubble, still unconscious or dead. Or perhaps the eruption of power vaporized him. I do wish I had more data." Brick commented. Mad Mod stared, still unable to comprehend Brick with a brain, while Adonis broke up the fight between Jack and Atlas.

The Handyman had made his way back to the bar, and he'd almost spoken with Nightwalker, but she seemed to be in a thoughtful state, so he'd made his way over to Kurai and Rose. Rose was drinking, and Kurai was watching her with a confused alertness, as if he was still trying to puzzle something out.

"So…horror movie villains! Coming to life! And you guys with no powers! Hah! Whoda thunk…" Was all Handyman got out before Kurai seized him by the shirt.

"Do not even BEGIN to think my given gifts defines me as a warrior, or I swear you ignorant dog I will strike you dead where you stand?"

"…Can I have a lifeline?" Handyman squeaked, and Kurai let him go. Handyman ran off.

"That was mean. You're a mean boy." Rose commented, causing Kurai to look at her in a sidelong glance again. His master was still thinking, and Rose was…what? Had she suffered head trauma?

"As for this situation, actually, it's exactly like that comedy I saw last year. _Ringu_. Evil things coming out of the TV? Perfectly understandable."

Nearby, Nightwalker stared.

"Uh…Ringu was not a comedy." The redhead pointed out.

"I don't know what movie YOU were watching. I thought it was hilarious." Kurai replied.

"Ahah!" Rose declared, for a moment sounding a bit more like herself. "So it isn't just the cultural barriers! You're just a sick freak all on your own!"

"Sick freak? It's everyone else who takes these things too seriously!" Kurai protested.

"And by your example you don't?" Nightwalker asked.

"A slight against my honor, eh!" Kurai declared as he spun back to Nightwalker, who looked mildly surprised and then not so much, considering what she'd seen of Kurai. "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

"No you don't apprentice." Slade said from his table. "We don't need to be wasting energy on such things."

"As you wish, Slade-sama…"

"Actually, I'd rather accept." Nightwalker said as she got off her stool. "I know you still have energy abilities as reduced as they may be Kurai, but I still say…hey wait, is that Gauntlet over there?"

"WHERE? I'LL ATOMIZE HIM!" Kurai yelled, as he leapt off the stool.

As Nightwalker fired an orb right into his testicles and then followed it up by firing the remaining three orbs in her clip into his forehead. The Japanese warrior went down like a ton of bricks.

"This is why I don't hold grudges." Nightwalker said as she reloaded.

"…You're a mean lady." Kurai squeaked from where he was holding his badly aching privates.

"And don't you forget it." Nightwalker replied.

A hand then came between the black-clad female and the spiky-haired Japanese. Slade's hand.

"And that is the end of that." Slade said, though Nightwalker could have sworn she saw a glimpse of approval in Slade's eye. Only a brief glimpse though. "I have decided on what to do. Apprentice, if you are anywhere near the person I trained, you should be just about recovered."

"Hai Slade-sama! I have shaken it off easily!" Kurai said, back to his feet, though his leg stance showed to Nightwalker his balance wasn't as firm as it would normally be.

"Very well. Take another moment anyway. Then I want you to go with Rose into the back of this bar. I have a crate of weapons that the now-gone owner of this place had set aside for me. I want you to go retrieve them. Stay frosty at all times, even when you think there is no trouble. I would go myself, but I believe it would be better if I kept my eye on the rest of our…fellows." Slade said. "I mean it. Watch each other's back."

"Yes master!"

"Aye-firmative." Rose said, as she saluted her father. Slade gave his daughter a look of cold puzzlement. She just gave him a little nod in return. _Something is not right with my daughter…_

"The other task may be more difficult, possibly even life-threatening. I suppose for the sake of fairness I should give you a chance to turn it down." Slade said as he turned towards Nightwalker.

"...I did not believe fairness was part of this business."

"Good answer Miss Sine. The weapons I have asked my apprentices to retrieve are fairly numerous, but they can only outfit myself and perhaps two others well, and they are specially designed for me. Due to the lack of natural talent that is afflicting this bar, firearms for all would probably increase of chances of getting through this mess…those who would listen, anyway." Slade said. "Unfortunately, it is not located near this location, but at another warehouse several blocks away. Hence why I ask you, as you are the only one with experience in these matters, and the tricks that can be played. I have composed a list of how to get there and which supplies would be most useful, but you must make it there and back. Will you take on this task?"

"…I will, Mr. Wilson, but I don't know how I'm going to…"

"You will not be going alone. You will need a companion with strength to transport the weapons back. I would request Brick, but I believe his great bulk and lack of speed would be considerable detriments to the possible threats you could face. It would be far better if you could be accompanied by someone who is also swift on their feet and in their mind…"

"You want me to go with the White Hole." Nightwalker said in an even tone, with a faint trace of nervousness under it.

"It would be the most optimal choice. I suppose if she will not cooperate, Brick will have to serve…but I believe she will if the request is worded properly. I also believe you know what I am talking about."

"Yes sir." Nightwalker said. "I will go…speak with her immediately."

"You do that, but do not waste too much time pursuing the issue if she is bullheaded over it. For the sake of time…and your own." Slade said.

Nightwalker said nothing, instead turning around and going off, but Slade noticed she was removing the clip of orb ammo she had inserted before and putting a new one in. A cautious girl. It would be a shame if she did not return. Which was a possibility.

"Ravager. Kurai. Go as well. Be as quick as you can." Slade said, and as his two apprentices headed off to another hallway leading off from the bar Slade loudly rapped on a table to get the villain's attention. "I have decided on a plan of action. Anyone who would not want to go along with it, I shall repeat myself once more and not again. Leave now." Slade said. No one left, but Slade was still light years away from trusting anyone at the bar. Their 'kind' did not form teams well. Ironically, the only one Slade was certain of was the silent Killjoy: he would have gotten up and left long ago if he wanted nothing to do with this. For all his lack of speaking, he could communicate just fine if one knew how to listen. For now he sat at his table, staring off into space, or so it seemed. He was in thought himself, and ready for any trouble.

"I have just sent two teams of two on missions of importance. They will be returning with weapons and ammo for us, let us hope swiftly. Outside of them, no one else is to leave this room without giving me some kind of verbal cue. Otherwise I will shoot you as you return. No exceptions." Slade said, as he lifted his custom shotgun. "Once we acquire the weapons, we will discuss this some more. Though I must say, this bar is a mess. If we are attacked, I do not want to think of the problems of us tripping over fallen furniture and other problems with debris. Just something to consider to pass the time." Slade said, as he said down, his shotgun close. A few of the villains took his hint and began cleaning up the bar again, probably more for something to do then any real desire to help.  
Sorceress looked at Slade. He looked at confident as he could under the circumstances. Which meant he still didn't fully grasp it.

Learning was going to come hard to him. It always did to his breed.

"Hey guys, while we wait, let's play a game." Handyman said. "Every time somebody does something horribly stupid, we take a shot. Deal?"

"Eh, why not." Dr. Light said.

"Don't have much else to do, sure…" Torque said as Kurai and Ravager walked past them to get to their hallway door.

"Hey Kurai, I know! Let's split up to cover more ground and save time!" Rose suggested as they walked past.

The villains stared, and then Torque began pouring a shot.

"…well I wasn't saving this liver for anything important anyway…"

* * *

The nerves in her stomach were down to a few twitters by the time Nightwalker found what she assumed was the White Hole's room. She tried to keep it off her expression. Creatures like the White Hole not only could smell fear, but also get a killing desire from it, as she knocked on the door. 

"White Hole?"

No answer. Nightwalker waited a few seconds. This WAS her room, right? And she didn't want to stand around waiting. She knew they were on a ticking clock.

"White Hole?" Nightwalker said, as she knocked on the door, even as she began turning the knob to open it. "White Hole are you still in…" Nightwalker said as she opened the door and walked in.

She did not find the White Hole dead, but it wasn't all wine and roses either. The alien stood across the room, having stopped in mid-motion as Nightwalker had walked in. And said mid-motion was the alien putting on a shirt. And whether by culture or personal preference, she was not wearing any form of undergarments.

At least she had pants on, but that didn't much lessen the awkwardness.

"…Oh." Nightwalker said, as the White Hole stared back at her, her shirt still held above her head, her arms just about to slip through it.

"Slade paired me to work with you." Nightwalker said as she quickly came in and closed the door. "We have to be going, quickly."

"Oh, really." The White Hole said, as she slipped the shirt off and lowered it in front of her. "Why?"

"You're strong, and fast, and we both know you want to raise some hell. I think this will be a very good opportunity to do so." Nightwalker said. She did not advert her eyes: the White Hole might read it as weakness. Besides, the White Hole was humanoid enough, she didn't have anything Nightwalker didn't have.

"Really." The White Hole repeated, as she looked at Nightwalker, not yet putting her shirt back on.

"Yes. Trust me when I say trouble's coming. And you love it. Or so I've heard." Nightwalker said. "Are you close to finishing?"

"Nearly, but was this item so important you had to walk in on me half naked?" The White Hole commented.

"Does it matter?" Nightwalker said, not wanting to get into an argument. "We have to move swiftly."

"I'm not blind or stupid." The White Hole said, as she gave her a baleful glance.

"No. But the longer this effect is out, the stronger it gets. I've seen this firsthand, and I want to do what's needed while it's still as weak as possible."

"Hmphm." The White Hole said, as she started putting her shirt back on.

For the life of her, Nightwalker never knew why she kept talking, especially along the route she chose.

"You disagree?" Nightwalker asked.

"I dislike the tone." The White Hole replied, stopping again in mid-dress. Nightwalker was starting to get annoyed by this peep show. True, they were actually fairly nice (that was the advantage of being cloned after death: unsightly scars and mutilations could be removed), especially considering the alien was a mass of bodybuilder-esque muscle rather then a supermodel stick. But Nightwalker wasn't here for that. This was business.

"Look White Hole, we don't have time to argue. Get dressed so we can go."

The growl that escaped from the White Hole's lips would have frozen the blood of many beings. It sent a chill down Nightwalker's spine.

"You're ordering me?" The White Hole snapped.

_Back down or stand fast_? Nightwalker took half a second to ponder her options.

"Well, considering all I hear about you is you're a razor line away from a rabid animal while I am, to date, not, maybe it would work better for now if one relied on rational thought…"

She knew the White Hole had speed, but even prepared Nightwalker was caught completely off guard as the alien dashed across the room, seized Nightwalker in one cruelly clawed hand, and then slammed her against the wall with a vicious snarl.

(Though in a tiny part of Nightwalker's brain, she noted that despite such strength and impact, and the sharpness of the metal fused over the alien's hand, the edge only bit into the very outer edge of Nightwalker's neck. Now THAT was fine control. Oh, and she was still topless, just to add a touch of sexual absurdity to this whole mess).

"Rational thought?" The White Hole snarled, as Nightwalker looked into eyes (well, an eye) surging with savage violence, a ferocity that had rent the populations of worlds apart. "What good is that when you have to make decisions based on instinct?"

"GACKKKKKKKKKK!" Was all Nightwalker could gasp out, as the hand tightened, strangling her and slicing her throat all in one motion…

"Don't you DARE presume you can order me on that justification!" The White Hole snapped. "NO ONE ORDERS ME!"

Yet, even as the White Hole spat her words in her face, she loosened her grip, just a touch…enough for Nightwalker to speak, anyway.

"So…you prove them right then?" Nightwalker gasped, and then gagged, trying to suck air into her lungs.

"…What?" The White Hole replied. Nightwalker wasn't sure if she could get more words out, but she'd damn sure not die with a whimper if that was to happen.

"They claim you're just…some mindless beast…and here you are…showing the truth…in what they say!" Nightwalker choked out.

"Why should I care what they are thinking? Mad ramblings of zealots and cowards!" The White Hole retorted.

"Then why are you…proving them right?"

And the grip slackened a bit more, as the White Hole looked genuinely confused. Nightwalker figured she had nothing to lose and pressed her advantage.

"You claim you don't care…which means they shouldn't know you…but from how you act…they seem to know you…far too well."

The White Hole growled again…but she turned away, just a little, as if pondering Nightwalker's words, though one arm still held her by the throat…

But it was enough for Nightwalker, as she lifted her right arm up around the White Hole's and jammed the tube of her gauntlet right into the White Hole's ear.

A faint hint of surprise passed over the White Hole's features, but it was swift and nearly nothing to begin with. Nightwalker ignored that. She couldn't consider the implications anyway.

"Now…please put me down." Nightwalker said, able to talk somewhat normally again. The White Hole did not re-tighten her grip, but the look on her face was no longer one of outright fury, but rather the vicious amusement she had shown moments before she'd skinned Ski Mask 2 alive.

"And just what do think that will do?" The White Hole asked chillingly.

"I think it will do plenty, even if you gut or decapitate me on the spot. It's a hair trigger, and before I die I KNOW I'll have enough wherewithal to pull it and give your brain an acid bath. That's fluoro-antimonic acid. 20 quadrillion times the disintegrating power of sulfuric acid. I'm sure even that would inconvenience you!" Nightwalker rasped. "So here's what we say we do. You put me down, I remove my arm, and we try to work together to survive instead of pointlessly trying to maim and/or kill each other. We already more likely then not have plenty of outside forces wanting that. So?"

"So? This threat might have meaning if I knew what sulfuric acid was. For all I know that's the chemical formula for table salt in there."

"I do not bluff alien! This stuff WILL kill you: your brain does not share the toughness of your hide!"

"Well then…perhaps I should see if you can live up to your promise then?" The White Hole said, with a cruel fanged smile.

"You first." Nightwalker retorted.

Silence.

And then the White Hole dropped Nightwalker, and despite being ready she still lost her perfect aim, leaving the White Hole to rip her arm off if she so chose. But she did not. Instead, she laughed.

"Low and behold fool." The White Hole said, though Nightwalker couldn't quite understand if that fit. "I'll let you live, if only to show you how lucky you happened to be. The promise of carnage has left me in a good mood."

"Good mood…" Nightwalker coughed, rubbing her raw, slightly bloody throat. "You're not exactly jovial in my viewpoint."

"No, but I am still in a better mood than what I would be." The White Hole said. Nightwalker swallowed and lowered her hand from her throat.

"I won't deem to try to give you orders, but I don't like the idea you have no care for my well being. At the least, that's at a tactical disadvantage to you."

"On the contrary, that little stunt had gained you a few…human term…scout points?"

"Brownie points."

"Right." The While Hole said. "Fair enough…"

The alien then seemed to realize she had left her shirt behind, and then finally seemed to realize the state she'd been in during her whole strangling of Nightwalker, as she looked down on her bare chest.

"Oh…er…" The White Hole said, as she turned away, as Nightwalker stared in surprise. That was certainly an odd time for modesty to kick in, as the While Hole went back over to her fallen shirt. "I suppose you are not all boast. Do you have a plan?"

"Slade gave me details and instructions. We go where he wants, grab what he wants, and come back as soon as possible, hoping reality doesn't go tits up on us and we step through a door and suddenly find ourselves in the Temple of Doom."

"I'm sure we will be able to muster against anything." The White Hole said as she finally got her shirt on. With that overdue task done, she began putting on the rest of her battle attire.

"Are you still strong enough to use your weapons?" Nightwalker asked. The White Hole stopped and glared again, and Nightwalker had no desire to get pinned to a wall once more, so she kept talking. "Look, all of us have been affected. I don't feel like my old self and neither does anyone else. Why are you the only exception? The Lord and the Sorceress could both make you explode with a glance, and they were affected. Bluff to the crowd all you want, you probably have a need to…but to me, just answer truthfully, for both our sakes."

"And why should I do so?" The White Hole, as she continued to put on her armor.

"So I don't overestimate your abilities and get you or myself killed." Nightwalker replied.

"Hmphm." The White Hole muttered again. "You'll be underestimating them, I'm sure…but to be honest I have been affected. A LITTLE." The White Hole said, as she finished putting on her armor. Finally looking at it fully, Nightwalker took in the details. There was a Demi-Gorget with a heavy shoulder pad on her right side: the gorget sat on her collarbone and went up to a form-fitting neck and chin guard. Body armor fitted and ended above the stomach line, allowing a white jacket to flow from under it into an almost classic 'tails' setup. Heavy vambraces covered each arm, with minor folded Blacktrinian weapons placed on them as if for show. Tight leather trousers covered the White Hole's large, well-formed muscles as thick, metallic plates covered her shins and the tops of her feet like braces and spats all rolled into one. As well as the tails, a thick white cape rolled down her back, and on a nearby table sat a white hat, not too similar from the hat the Titan Scalpel, aka Nigel Hastings wore. The whole outfit was a glossy, shiny white, though the grazing, gashes, marks, and scars on the armor showed its age and the true purpose it projected, that of a walking Blacktrinian tank.

She was no sidelines player, that was for sure.

…And she had a rather nice contrast to Nightwalker's black ensemble, though that thought only briefly flitted through the redhead's mind.

"I can still use some weapons." The White Hole finished.

"How good are you with them?"

The White Hole leaned down, opened a chest, and produced a mace so large and nasty Nightwalker knew it could smash her into hamburger with one swing. One one-armed swing. And despite her lessened powers, the alien still handled the giant bludgeon like it weighed nothing. How strong WAS the White Hole? Strong enough to earn her reputation it seemed.

"Very good." The White Hole replied.

"Good." Nightwalker echoed. "Now just don't overestimate yourself."

"And don't you underestimate me." The White Hole replied.

"I don't underestimate anybody."

"Heh." The While Hole said, as she laid the mace against one shoulder and picked up her hat, as she placed it on her head. "Good enough."

Terror incarnate was ready.

* * *

That opinion was not shared by everybody. 

"Terror incarnate? My blistered ass." Freddy chuckled to himself as he watched the two females walk down the hallway. He'd been keeping an eye on them as well as the bar and the other two Slade had sent off, and he would have enjoyed himself more if he didn't like his women not to look like they were the winners of the Miss Human Growth Hormone pageant.

Freddy chuckled again and reclined briefly on the twisted throne of bones, blades, and blood that he sat on, in an indistinguishable area covered in black, the literal heart of darkness of the holocaust he was about to unleash. Third time was the charm, and they had one hell of a head start. Freddy'd proven it by swiftly icing that yakking supposed shadow-god. In the end, his muscles and heart gave just as easy as the rest's.

His…assistants were there too, around him. He'd handpicked them, but at the moment he didn't much care to hear them talking, so they didn't. He was in charge, after all.

Perhaps one would wonder why Freddy would need assistants. Couldn't he easily handle this all by himself? The truth was, he could. But this wasn't a group of teenagers, even if those teenagers were metahumans and 'heroes' (or metahumans at least). These were the 'bad guys', the supposed elite of this world…Freddy could give a pinch of dog shit about how bad they were. They didn't deserve him, him and his art. No, he would stay here up on his throne and he'd have others do the job. If they had any worth at all, some would survive, and maybe he'd grace them with his presence again. After all, they would surely come after him again. Maybe their powers weren't fully sealed, and were slowly restoring themselves…but that didn't matter. Even if they got back their hands, they'd never beat the cards hidden up Freddy's sleeves.

And so Freddy rolled his fingers, the claws on his glove making small clinking noises as they sliced the air, as Freddy watched the pair of females rejoin the bar, speak briefly to the one called Slade again, and then make another quick detour. The redhead had retrieved a briefcase, one loaded to the brim with her choice of weapon's ammo, as she began arming herself. A personal weapon system. Freddy'd never seen that in the real world…but it didn't matter.

He was in charge. He knew how this movie ended. All he had to do was fill in the cast and the scenes.

Oh yeah, this would be a fucking blast. It didn't quite beat dream killing…but they didn't deserve such a grand way to go. No. They were small, and deserved to die small.

He took one last look at Nightwalker as she left the bar with the alien. Hot stuff. The kind of girl Freddy'd love to have his way with. Maybe he yet would…in fact, he already had a few ideas. After all…she'd escaped once before. She should have known not to sign up for a sequel.

Yeah, she was one hot piece of ass. Definitely fun.

(And also the type that tended to best Freddy at the end of his bloody crusades, but Freddy wasn't about to think a thought like THAT. It was anathema to Mr. Krueger…kind of like mentioning a certain dead machete-wielder).

But he'd start up her part of the game in a moment. The more immediate targets awaited him in the bar.

And he had a perfect way to introduce them to their new nightmare.

"You know what they say…bad things come in small packages!" Freddy cackled, as he literally typed on the air…as his screen briefly transmuted into a computer of sorts, much like the kind a screenwriter might toil over to produce a script. No better way to start the terror.

That settled the bar. Now for the other two, wandering the hallways. Freddy already knew what was going to happen. And it demanded a certain response. Had to love the classics, even if they were all inferior to him, as Freddy waved the screen aside and pointed to the summoned figure in the darkness.

"You know what to do! So do what you do worst!"

The figure in the black made no indication that he'd understood. He just turned and vanished into the black, leaving only one faint whispered word.

"…Sweet…"

Freddy leaned back on this throne again. It was good to be king.

* * *

It was oddly quiet in the villain's cafe now. Even the conversation had died down to whispered murmurs, the only real noise being the sound of Brick, Puppet King, and Handyman moving away the wreckage from the chaos magic eruption. And even that seemed muted, somehow. 

Like someone was trying to set up an atmosphere, Slade noted. _How droll._

Those who weren't talking or working were drinking (Jack seemed to have regained enough use of his energy hands to hold a bottle). Killjoy was ever silent and watchful again. Sorceress seemed to be in a meditative state, trying to muster what power she could. And Slade was…what was he doing anyway?

Slade's eye narrowed. His mind did not wander. It was too advanced and well honed to wander.

And yet…

Slade cast a glance at the shotgun next to him. The basic ammo stored in his suit's setup was about ten shells, six normal and four special ones. If there was trouble that should be more then enough. He'd been in war. He was the ultimate soldier. He could handle anything this strange night decided to throw at him and come out smelling like a rose.

Speaking of roses, what had happened to his daughter? He'd been mentally occupied, but he'd noticed she wasn't quite herself. He needed more information. And even if something was off, she was sill the Ravager. If she couldn't shove off whatever strange track she had stepped on for the moment when it counted, then she was worthless to him. Perhaps some would find that cold, but Slade Wilson…

"Amelia." The Sorceress suddenly said. Slade turned his head.

"Amelia?" He repeated. "Who is Amelia?"

"I…don't know." The Sorceress said, confused. "The name just drifted across my mind…and that's all."

Slade looked at the depowered master mystic for another brief moment and then turned back. He needed to keep his mind straight. It was how he had survived for all these many years (regenerative abilities aside), and how he would outlive his enemies, no matter how many generations they possessed.

As Adonis, grumbling, began cutting up a lime for the still complaining Blackfire, muttering he didn't get paid enough for this job.

* * *

Kurai didn't get paid at all for the rather dangerous position of being Deathstroke the Terminator's apprentice, but such a thought never occurred to him at all: the honor was enough. At least until Kurai had returned from that fateful mission and found Rose now shared that honor. Ever since then sparks had flown between them, as Kurai and her both equally believed themselves to be the worthy heir of Deathstroke's legacy. It was too bad that the young woman was such an aggravating nag slash bitch, she had lovely features and a very alluring form. Of course, Kurai kept this observations very brief, subtle, and to himself. Besides, she was his rival. 

And then this had happened, and Rose had gone…

What was the term?

Well, she wasn't wearing her mask, an inbuilt habit as it allowed her some facial and cranial protection. And the sharpness in her eye, as noted, wasn't as bright as before. But most of all…since the unleashing of the chaos magic, she hadn't insulted him once. No mockery, overt or subtle, had spilled from her lips. That, more then anything, bothered Kurai. He knew people could change, but he also knew people were not light switches: they couldn't go from one extreme to the next in a blink. Add in the very obvious factors that the world wasn't working as we knew it and Kurai was deeply bothered. He could almost swear he preferred Rose's mockery to her dullness.

Maybe it would be better if he deliberately provoked her, as they walked down the hallway they were in. After leaving the bar, they had gone up a flight of stairs, turned and corner, and were now walking down another hallway. The light was good, Kurai noted: strange considering the Lord was a master of darkness.

"Now listen women, I know you think you have it better now, but a firearm is still no substitute for the _Bachi no Kami_, even muted as it is! So follow my lead, and we can be assured neither of us will be hurt!" Kurai snapped, making it sound like he'd been waiting to get out of Slade's earshot to say this.

"…Whatever turns you on big boy!" Rose replied.

Kurai stared. Had Rose Wilson been swapped in that explosion of light for a pod person?

"So wait, you're just going to listen to me, and not question my competence or skills."

"Should I?"

"…The woman I knew would have hung me up by my scrotum for even suggesting that in the most oblique way."

"What's a scrotum?"

Kurai facevaulted.

"I fear Slade-sama's reaction to this. It is not an advantage that I would…"

And then, around the corner, a faint thump.

And in a flash Rose had drawn her pistol and cocked it, even as she kept a hand on one of the long, thin katanas on her back. In a flash Kurai saw the old Rose Wilson…briefly. It didn't last too long, but it was better then the dunce he'd been speaking to moments before.

"Did you hear something?" She asked.

"I believe so." Kurai replied, as he focused and ignited burning energy on his forefingers as he laced them together, like a child mimicking a gun. But this was not playtime, and even the small energy blasts he formed would be enough. Small holes going through chests and heads carried the same problems large ones did, like death. "Around the corner, be alert, and if it is a threat, fire precisely and slowly if possible! Don't spray!"

"I know." Rose said, as the two crept around the corner, 'slicing the pie' as Slade had taught them, slowly slipping their vision around to see…

An empty hallway.

Rose stepped around and pointed her gun, glancing around.

"My flank Kurai. Cover it. Just in case."

"_Hai_." Kurai replied, as he turned his head, making sure nothing snuck up behind them. But they still found nothing.

"Perhaps it was the building settling." Rose suggested as she glanced behind her.

"Yes Rose, and what is the saying, I own a overpass in the American city of Brooklyn, perhaps you would like to purchase it from me?"

"No need to get snippy…" Rose said as she turned back to the hallway…

And saw them.

Two little girls. Twins. In blue dresses.

"Hello Rose." One spoke. "Come and play with us. Come and play with us Rose. Forever... and ever... and ever."

And then…

_CARNAGE DEATH AN AXE BLOOD EVERYWHERE DEAD CHOPPED TO BITS OH GOD THE GIRLS BLOOD EVERYWHERE_

Kurai was just about to say something as Rose screamed and recoiled backwards, and for a moment he thought she had been attacked, something had slipped around their guard after all, as she fell into his arms and he was forced to break his gun hand stance to grab her as she pointed her own weapon down the hallway, the pistol trembling in her grasp…

At nothing. The hallway was empty.

"What the devil woman! If that was a way to break the tension, it was a piss-poor one!" Kurai snapped.

"What…the girls…dead…" Rose said, as she looked on. The hallway was empty. Nothing was there.

"What dead girls?" Kurai asked.

"There were girls in blue…and then they were dead…someone killed them with an axe…"

"What? You mean from that film, what was it, the Brilliance or something? I remember that. It was hilarious." Kurai said. "…You saw these girls and then they were dead?"

"Yes…"

"…Huh, been a long time since someone played that wholly straight."

"What?"

"Nothing." Kurai said as she shoved Rose up. "Get ahold of yourself. You're of no use to anyone if you go shooting everything that moves. More likely to shoot yourself then anything." Kurai said. He wondered if Slade would be coming: that scream had been fairly loud. There was a good chance he'd heard it.

But he did not emerge: perhaps he had not heard it. Rose seemed to have gathered herself as well.

"I swore I saw something."

"Well if you did it was kind or weak enough to go away by itself." Kurai retorted as he moved down the hallway. "Should you really be surprised? Doesn't your brain let you see visions or something?"

"My precognitive ability isn't something I can just activate on a whim and know precisely what's going to happen, Kurai! It's more instinctual, coming in flashes when needed! It's not a one stop horoscope…!"

"Fine, fine." Kurai said, sick of it already, as he finally came to a door. "Now be careful, we don't know…"

Kurai opened the door.

And the figure swung out at him.

"AHHHHH!" Kurai yelled as he jumped back and thrust out her fingers, firing a brief burst of small blasts that tore through the shadowed form. Rose was right next to Kurai and her gun immediately boomed, adding to the shots as she put four bullets through the target…

Which was still inside the room and spinning around, not moving. Rather like it was…on a rope.

Kurai blinked, then slowly stepped up and reached inside the room, finding a light switch…

And revealing the dummy, still swinging, smoke wafting from the holes Rose had shot in it. Just a normal dummy made of some unidentifiable materials, in a room filled with them.

"…Aheh. Ok, perhaps I am a bit on edge myself." Kurai said. "But I wasn't until you screamed Rose."

"What is this?" Rose said, lowering her gun, still drawing deeper breaths then usual, the new surge of adrenaline still pumping through her. She saw the dummy had a face on it. A familiar face. The Titan Raven.

"…Huh. I guess this is where the Lord relieves some frustrations." Kurai said as he looked around, seeing the dummies all had the faces of the other Titans (he would have blasted the Gauntlet one into soot, but he was trying to conserve SOME power). "No weapons though. Let's move on. And try not to get into a shootout with every open door."

"Right." Rose said, as she ejected the empty shell casings and replaced them with swift fingers, still taking deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Kurai asked, taking notice of the breathing.

"Yeah just still a bit…excited." Rose said.

"Right. Get bored." Kurai said, as he closed the door and went down the hallway, Rose following.

Perhaps they should have looked behind them.

They'd have clearly seen the figure standing there, near the end of the hall, the now good lighting gone, casting him in shadows.

As he started after the pair.

* * *

"Slade. We have located something." Brick said, as Slade looked over to the newly re-brained giant. 

"What?"

"Well, we found a lot of wrecked furniture here, pressed up against a broken door. Might have been thrown by the reaction." Brick said.

"Why is this important?"

"The door's broken inward. Perhaps something went through here before the wreckage blocked it off."

"I cannot see what importance this could have, but you may as well remove and examine it anyway." Slade said. He was beginning to remember why he preferred mercenary work to being a soldier: a soldier tended to have long stretches of absolutely nothing happening…

As Adonis reached for the knife, needed to add a bit more lime to the drink he was making…and found it gone. He turned his head, blinking at where it had been. What the…?

…followed by minutes of terror.

As Doctor Westminster tried to put away his painkillers and found himself dropping them, and with a low curse he leaned down, picked them up, slipped them into his pocket…

And straightened up to find himself looking into its face.

Had Westminster had immensely high reflexes, his brain may have catalogued that what was standing on the bar before him was a doll. But it did not have red hair, overalls, and look like a child's toy. No. This doll looked like it was carved in the image of an African warrior: it wore only a loincloth, long wild hair streaming down its head, its eyes burning orange buttons, and its mouth, grossly enlarged, filled with razor sharp teeth filed down to points…

And holding the knife it had stolen from Adonis.

But Westminster did not have reflexes that heightened, and so all he saw was a brown blur as it launched itself through the air at him with a loud, primal scream and struck him straight in the face.

Only luck saved him from the knife going straight into his throat, as it struck and glanced off his shoulder as Westminster recoiled backwards, his bar stool tipping him onto the floor with a crash, even as the attacking THING snarled in a weird rasping cadence and it had the knife up, it was going for his face…!

Westminster grabbed the doll (it WAS a doll!) as it tried to plunge the knife through his cheek, the point piercing through his mask and into the skin, but he had it, as he wrestled with the creature, the small form holding surprising strength and endless ferocity as it snapped and growled at him in that weird tempo, like a step below a tribal cry, and then he had it and he was throwing it through the air even as the rest of the bar reacted to the attack even as the doll bounced onto the ground and was on its feet, still holding the knife.

"What the FUCK!" Jack snapped, as he looked at the snapping black doll…which was charging at him, going straight for his feet, and Jack yelled as he did a weird dance that could almost seem to be comical if it wasn't for that snapping, shrieking THING as it tried to carve up his ankles, as Jack tried to get away and aimed his hand, planning to spear the thing, but there was no spear the Grimmer was broken and then suddenly the doll was slicing his heel as Jack yelled. With his thick pants and boots it didn't go deep enough to slice the Achilles tendon but it still stung like hell as Jack managed to connect a half-hearted kick to the doll, sending it tumbling away. But it did not drop the knife: the weapon remained clutched in its tiny hands in a near death grip as it got up, its head whirling around…

And Slade, much to his surprise, found that he recognized it.

Found that somewhere in a long forgotten corner of his mind, resting in a hotel after a mission, watching television, and finding a TV movie on, a horror film…called _Trilogy of Terror_. A film that was best remembered for its memorable final segment featuring a woman who had purchased a Zuni Fetish Doll for her anthropologist boyfriend, only to find that the likeness it held was not physical: a savage Zuni warrior spirit known as 'He Who Kills' actually lurked within the doll, bringing it to life to hunt and stalk the woman who was forced to fight for her life…

…but that was ridiculous. That was a movie. It couldn't be HERE…

Except it was, because Killjoy began shooting at it.

But the doll, He Who Kills, did not stand still, as it took off along the bar floor, running so quickly, like Speedy Gonzalez mainlining both caffeine and adrenaline, yelling in that weird snapping tone that almost sounded like a laugh, except it wasn't…as the Zuni doll, He Who Kills, the bullets tearing into the floor around it, ran among the feet of several of the sitting villains and vanished under the table, as the villains yelled and jumped up…

"ATLAS IS NOT IMPRESSED!" Atlas boomed as he smashed both hands down on the table…even as the Zuni Fetish doll ran up his back and launched himself at Johnny Rancid, who yelled tried to block, and got a few nasty slices across his forearm for his trouble as the doll furiously attacked him, before Johnny threw the doll off himself and it hit the ground, and a moment later a hammer crashed into the wall thrown by the Handyman and my god it was actually here it was real something had actually stepped out of a movie…

Forget it, it was a target! And so Slade yanked his shotgun up and sighted with an aim that was every bit as masterful as Killjoy's…

And every bit as ineffective, as the shotgun ripped the ground open just behind the doll, it was so damn fast, running across the bar, running behind all the wrecked and overturned debris, as Slade aimed and fired again, and again, blowing holes through everything except the damn doll, as the Sorceress recoiled, overturning a table as she got behind it, as the Zuni warrior ran across the floor and Slade and Killjoy wasted more ammo shooting at it, as the doll went for Killjoy, but despite the absurdity of the whole mess he took the threat seriously as he threw himself sideways, rolling over his table and onto the floor, where he found himself eye level with the creature as he fired two last shots, missing but driving it back, as he rolled to up to one knee, his gun clicking dry as he ejected the clip and reached for a new one with blurred fingers…

As the spear flew through the air and impaled itself in Killjoy's hand. The killer recoiled a bit at the injury, not having expected the He Who Kills to have another weapon, as the doll snatched its knife back up and ran…

As Jack slashed for it, leaning down and clawing at it with pointed Grimmer hands, as the doll dodged away from Killjoy to face its new target, still emitting that mad chatter as it swung for Jack's face, but Jack wasn't having any of it as he swatted the doll aside, and it tumbled across the floor again, and Slade was busy reloading he couldn't fire on it…

As its eyes seized on the Sorceress, and it ran and leapt at the mystic, eyes gleaming with killing rage.

* * *

As Kurai and Rose found their own strange sight. 

The door had seemed to draw them, as it was partially open, into a room that was lit. And so they had entered, and found…

"Huh." Kurai said, as he opened the door…and found a bedroom. A very large bedroom, with a huge black-sheeted bed, with a nightstand next to it, tables and bookshelves around the room. It was so big that there were a few doors inside the room leading to other rooms. The room was utterly spotless as well, again leading to a mausoleum vibe. "I guess this is where he sleeps."

"…He needs to sleep?" Rose said, as she and Kurai entered the room. Nice, but chillingly somber. Not unexpected but she didn't like it. It made her nervous. "Do you think daddy's weapons might be in here?"

"The Lord may have kept them close at hand. Just be careful. Bastard may have booby-trapped everything in here, for all we know." Kurai said.

The door slowly closed behind the pair, as they began to look through the room. But there was no sign of a crate that may have held weapons. Finding a door, Kurai opened it to find another room.

"You look through the rest of this room. I'll check on this one. Rose, be on your guard." Kurai said, as he went through the door.

Rose tried to do so, balancing her nervousness with…what was it? A continuing rush of heat, as if constantly preparing for combat? Well, while her blood was up, it might do her good to get into a fight…

She lifted the bed cover and peered under the bed. Nothing. She even shone a mini-flashlight under it to make sure. Nothing.

She also carefully looked around as she got up in case anything had snuck up on her. Nothing, though the door to the room remained open a crack. But otherwise she was alone.

She took a few more steps, and stopped near the nightstand at the bed, noting the door to her immediate left: probably a closet. A black bound book was sitting in a partly open drawer. Curious, Rose carefully opened the drawer and took the book out, flipping it open.

Fancy black script filled page after page. This was clearly the Lord's diary or notebook of some sorts…except the script was so elaborate that Rose could barely read it. And what she did read was boring. Long rambling rants on human beings, righteousness, and all the stuff the Lord babbled about to try and make himself seem cooler then he was. What a dork, Rose mused, as she kept flipping through the book…

And found herself stopping. Abruptly, the script had changed. Fancy calligraphy had given way to jagged, frantic printing, as if the writer wasn't wholly sure what he was doing. The large lines took up the entirety of the right page, as the Lord's pondering on the nature of time abruptly trailed into…

_Fever gone but itchy.  
Hungry and eat doggy food.  
Itchy itchy Scott came.  
Ugly face so killed him.  
Tasty._

Feeling that chill running down her spine again, Rose turned the page. There were only two more words.

_Itchy._

_Tasty._

And the door next to Rose slammed open.

And once again Rose felt the scream tearing from her lips, a weird echoing cry that didn't really sound like her, like she was hearing someone else make the sound, perhaps because even as the door crashed open her reflexes, dulled and deadened but far from gone, especially after the hallway incident, was turning, was aiming her gun, and death exploded from the pistol…

For one brief moment, her senses seemed scrambled, as she not only heard the shots she saw them, filling their vision, as if she was a part of the firing process…and then her gun clicked empty, that was the problem with revolvers, they didn't hold much ammo…

But it also allowed her vision to expand from the tunnel it had briefly shrunk to…as she saw the door next to her did not lead to a closet. It led to a small hallway, which exited into another room.

And Kurai lay on the ground before her.

And for a moment the ice returned. She hadn't been properly alert…she'd shot her own companion…

And then she realized it was wrong.

Kurai was not in the proper place. He was too close to the door to have been knocked backwards by gunshots. And…he wasn't bleeding. In fact, he was leaning up and propping his head up on one arm, as he looked at Rose with resigned annoyance.

"I loathe being on the lower plane of any creature, in any sense…but I must admit it has the advantages at times." Kurai said, as he pushed himself nimbly to his feet.

"Kurai you're…not dead." Rose breathed.

"Not considering your efforts after all." Kurai said sarcastically. "I found Slade-sama's weapons."

"What?"

"My door. It lead to Slade-sama's weapons. It had a hallway that lead to a storage room, and in a smaller room behind that one is the crate. I also found another door in the room with the weapons, which lead to the hallway and door I just exited out of." Kurai said. Rose blinked: so it wasn't a closet. "I tried to open it, but the door was jammed…and considering what just happened, I suddenly realized slamming through the door like a winged rodent out of your Hades had a high chance of proving detrimental. So I got on the floor and tried to push it open with my legs. Unfortunately it resisted to the point to when it did open, it did so in the violent way that would have proven quite painful to me had I been lined up with your bullets."

"…Wow! Kurai, you're smart!"

"So you finally notice!" Kurai said, primping briefly. Rose did not ask the more obvious question of why Kurai didn't do something like knock, or just go back the way he came. And Kurai didn't either, as Rose lowered her gun.

Her shock was gone, but her heart was still thumping, the heat still flowing through her. She'd never quite had a reaction to adrenaline like this before, but then normally she was much more calm…more rational…and…

…this wasn't quite the same as battle-sent fire. This was…a different heat, she realized.

And once she did…she had a rough idea of how to quench it.

"…probably failed any time test Slade-sama had for us." Kurai was saying as he looked back at the hallway where Rose had fired, trying to find the bullets. "Then again he never gave us any specific idea where the weapons were so maybe the test was to find them unless…" Kurai said as he turned around.

As Rose grabbed him by the shirt.

"_NANI?"_ Kurai said as Rose swung him around, and he nearly slammed his hand against her chest and blew her rib cage into a shattered mess before Rose shoved him backwards. He fell onto the bed, still shocked. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ROSE! ARE YOU POSSESSED?"

"No…" Rose said in a sultry tone. "But we've found Daddy's weapons. I think we for a moment deserve a rest."

"A rest? How does that involve you assaulting my…!" Kurai snapped…as Rose climbed on top of him. "Uh…"

"Just be quiet." Rose said.

"Uh well I must Rose-can you must really is this…that…is not restful…"

As the door leading to the room that Kurai and Rose had entered in originally, helped by the sudden vibrations of the floor, finally finished closing and clicked shut.

Even as a blackened, dirty hand closed on the knob.

"Naughty naughty children. Don't you know the rules?"

The light in the hall glimmered off the meat cleaver the figure had, as he began to turn the knob.

* * *

The glyph appeared in mid air. 

Slade only noted that fact that he had never seen glyphs or markings of any kinds appear around the Sorceress when she manifested her powers. In a way, the Sorceress looked just as surprised at the glowing dinner-plate sized marking, floating before her and her outstretched hands…

As the Zuni Fetish Doll slammed into an invisible barrier between him and the Sorceress, a barrier that rebelled him with a snapping, snarling scream, but the killer doll impacting against the shield seemed to act like the equivalent of punching the Sorceress in the gut, as the air came out of her in a pained gasp, and the glyph vanished, and the doll was back up, He Who Kills was far from bested, and he was going for the Sorceress again as her eyes filled with alarm like a deer in the headlights and he still hadn't reloaded the damn doll was just so fast and it shouldn't be here it was from a movie this was STUPID…!

As Brick's massive arm slammed down before the Sorceress, cutting off the attack and shattering some floor boards, as the doll let out a furious cry and changed directions like it was on rails, as Brick recoiled, moving his giant bulk far quicker then expected, as the doll flashed past him stabbing at his ankle, but Brick's skin proved too thick as with a furious grunt he lifted up his foot and stomped it down towards the creature…

He missed, as He Who Kills evaded the blow once again…as Brick's immensely powerful blow came down at the end of a floorboard, and even as Doctor Light was aiming to try and blast the Zuni Fetish Doll the floorboard swung up from under his feet and sent him flying through the air with an alarmed shriek. Blackfire looked to the side just as she was trying to shoot the annoying pest who was bothering her (with what? Her Blacksparks? Hey, don't question the actions of an angry alien, you'll live longer) as Light crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

If the resident pop culture geek had been present instead of absent and possibly dead, Control Freak might have commented that the atmosphere of movies was really settling in, for Doctor's Light's noise of alarm had sounded exactly like the famed (among aficionados of such things) Wilhelm Scream.

Puppet King's scream was considerably less funny, as He Who Kills charged into the larger marionette, easily knocking him to the ground as he tried to stab him to death. However, the fact that Puppet King, much like He Who Kills, was made of wood (and you'd think there would be some kind of bond between such similar creatures, but nope, guess not) rather resisted the concept of killing him. Not that the Zuni Warrior Doll didn't try, as his knife gorged splinters from Puppet King's chest and face.

"OW! NO! BROTHER PUPPET! STOP! ARGH! OW! MY EYE!" Puppet King shrieked as the Zuni doll stabbed Puppet King right in the middle of his painted on pupil. While Puppet King's nature kept him from being blinded by this, he still (especially in the dulled magic state he was in) felt it as a human would, as He Who Kills wrenched the knife out, even as Puppet King finally managed to get enough strength in his stubby arms to shove the doll off, staggering up, even as He Who Kills charged in again…

A loud cocking noise could be heard.

And He Who Kills dashed away once again, as Slade fired his shotgun at him, and with another scream Puppet King was sent flying once more (the floor took the brunt of the missed blast, but that didn't help the Puppet King much), crashing over the edge of a table as Slade made a low hiss of frustration. That damn thing had eyes on the back of its head! Well, Slade had killed a meta or two that was like that, he could damn sure kill a doll, as he aimed and fired again, even as the table Puppet King had hit and fallen off fell on top of him.

Killjoy's own gun boomed again, more bullets tearing through the café, but He Who Kills proved as elusive as ever, as he dashed at his new target…Slade himself.

Slade's eye narrowed again. Well he was sick of the problem already, as he aimed and fired again.

The floor exploded near He Who Kills' body as it dodged, so incredibly fast, eating up the distance between them despite having such small legs, and Brick and Jack were keeping out of the way of the shots as Killjoy ran out of ammo again, as Slade aimed and fired and the floor exploded just behind the doll but he was too close now but Slade's feet and legs were armored he'd go for a higher target he'd jump and he'd be ready as he lowered the shotgun transferring it to one hand and He Who Kills was leaping as Slade lashed his foot out…

His armored foot just brushed off the doll. He MISSED? HOW DID HE MIS-?

As He Who Kills stabbed his knife right at Slade's wide, remaining eye.

* * *

As the figure's hand turned the knob… 

And found it wouldn't turn.

"…What the?"

The hand tried to turn the knob again, only to find it wouldn't move at all.

"…Hey!"

The figure began struggling with the knob, getting nowhere. The door was locked. It had locked when it had closed, a moment before the figure had grabbed it.

"This isn't the way it's supposed to go!"

Both hands yanked furiously at the doorknob, but it did not give an iota. This wasn't some cheap lock. It had been made with skill.

"Oy, this is bullshite!" The figure said, as he pressed his shoulder against the door and pushed. Nothing. He chopped at the knob with his huge knife, trying to knock it off. Nothing. He punched the door…and then recoiled, holding his hand and cursing.

"Damn bad situation NOT to be immune too!" He snapped, waving his injured appendage, and kicked the door once, twice, three times. It continued not to give. And if you're wondering why Rose and Kurai didn't hear all this noise, well, they were kinda busy.

"All right you bastard, be that way…" The figure said as he backed up, and with a yelling battle cry he charged into the door…

And bounced off.

"Oh this must be a first." The figure muttered in a snarl. If anyone had been listening, they may have noticed how his voice didn't sound exactly the same twice. "Forget a Final Girl, or a Plot Device, the killer gets foiled by a decent lock!"

"Need a credit card?"

The figure turned away from the door, as he saw Mumbo standing there, smoking a joint and looking amused at the whole thing. Of course, that probably had to do with the fact he was as high as a kite. Lousy magic brouhaha ruining his buzz, well, he'd showed it!

"Oh wait, mine all got cut up. They're great at first, but after you miss a payment or two or seven or…" Mumbo trailed off, as he finally realized that he wasn't looking at one of his fellow villains, but something else entirely.

He was at least 6'6, and his body was literally rippling with muscle (though, if one could look closely at it, it was somewhat obscured by his clothes, the muscle looked…off. In fact, one might say it looked less like natural human muscle as it did muscle drawn by the early 90's garbage glut of XTREEM comic artists…but how…?) It was hard to tell just what his shirt and pants were (he wore boots), as he wore a rainbow-stained apron that covered most of his body. On his head was a chef's hat that extended into a white mask that covered his features entirely, almost like the mask was molded to them.

Oh, and he had a giant butcher knife. Mumbo stared.

"Hey man, you look a little familiar." The intoxicated magician said.

"Well, at least you shall not die ignorant." The figure said. "I am…THE SUGARMAN!"

Silence.

"…Nyuck nyuck." The Sugarman said, as if he was adding it to his last sentence at the last second. "Bout time things got back to the way they go. This is gonna be…schweet."

And the Sugarman slashed up his knife, though the move was more to display then attack.

"Ah! Knives hurt!" Mumbo yelped.

"…That is the impression I have gotten from my many victims, yes!" The Sugarman retorted, as he started forward.

"Wait!"

"…What?" Sugarman said, pausing again.

"…Why are you talking like a relatively normal person one sentence and like a Stooge the next?" Mumbo asked.

"You don't know my origin?" The Sugarman said.

Mumbo stared.

"Very well! I am the Sugarman! I kill people! You see, I was once a pastry chef. But then…but then I had the misfortune of buying land on an Indian graveyard. And this was actually people from India for once! But on All Hallows Eve, when I had a bake sale…the store was packed and…I don't know if it was the graveyard, but the many became the one." The Sugarman espoused. "And now I understand the truth about people! I know they're useless pigs! Because I have fifty of 'em in my head, and they're constantly chattering, the noise, the ENDLESS NOISE…so, I do what I can on the outside to keep the world dead…still…and sweet."

Mumbo stared.

"So that means I'm going to kill you moron!" Sugarman snapped.

"AHHHHH! NO! KILLING HURTS! AS MUCH AS KNIVES!" Mumbo yelped as he turned and began tearing away from the chef slash legion serial killer.

"That's better. Time to slice, and dice, and maybe make some Julian Fries! Nyuk nyuk!" The Sugarman said, as he started after Mumbo.

Walking at a slow, menacing crawl.

As Mumbo quickly got farther and farther away from him and disappeared around the corner.

"…Wait a minute, something isn't right here…" The Sugarman said as he walked along, as Mumbo's footsteps faded. "Hey wait…slow down!"

And on his throne, watching, Freddy smacked his head.

"YOU IDIOT! RUN!" He yelled.

"Run? What's running?"

Freddy facevaulted. Which was a damn strange sight to see, let me tell you that. By now Mumbo was long gone, even his footsteps having faded to nothing. The Sugarman stared, wondering what had gone wrong.

Well, he'd said run. So he'd try that.

So off the Sugarman took running…

For four steps before he collapsed in a gasping heap.

"CURSE YOU DEEP FRIED MARSHMELLOWS!"

* * *

Once, a lifetime ago, Slade's greatly enhanced reflexes had failed to live up what he believed them to be capable of. That error had cost him his right eye. 

Now it looked like another error in judgment was about to turn him into Zatoichi…

LIKE HELL.

The knife just glanced off the outer left rim of his armored mask, carving a scraping line across the orange color as He Who Kills momentum's carried the knife away from his eye…even as tiny, miniscule flecks of armor chipped off from the attack and went into Slade's eye. It was better then a blade, but that fact was lost on Slade as his eye watered and his vision blurred, even as he dropped the shotgun and tried to get the Zuni doll off of him before it could launch another assault, grabbing at it, trying to yank it away while simultaneously disarming it as he stumbled around (what was going on? HE WAS SLADE WILSON, why was he staggering around fighting with a puppet, this was ridiculous!), as he finally got the knife out of the puppet's hands, as it fell to the floor, but before Slade knew it He Who Kills had lunged and was trying to rip his throat out, slipping under the unarmored part of his mask and chest armor, its teeth razor sharp, biting through the thick but not thick enough material beneath…

As Slade finally got a grip and yanked it off, slamming the Zuni Fetish Doll into the ground with an angry yell. He tried to stomp on it, but He Who Kills evaded the blow once again and sprinted off, grabbing up his knife, as Slade cursed and rolled over to his shotgun, snatching it up and aiming at the hellsent doll, he was going to kill that damn thing…

But all he killed was the wall, as his shot missed once again. Slade muttered another low curse and ejected the shells. He'd had it. If he kept narrowly missing he'd make that fact a non-issue, as he ignored his normal shells and popped in two of his special ones, high grade explosive ones that would blow a man to pieces, let alone a doll. He'd get the damn thing with splash damage.

Not that he was alone in his effort, as Johnny Rancid tried to smash a barstool over the doll's chattering, snarling head, but Johnny missed and just got a stabbed ankle for his trouble, and even as he yelled Atlas and Handyman tried to smash the accursed thing with their fists and a sledgehammer, but they just put more holes in the floor as He Who Kills tore along, as Killjoy fired more shots at him and just made himself look like he was slipping more…

As Jack began hurling liquor bottles, which missed as well, no big surprise, as He Who Kills dashed through the puddles of alcohol…

And Slade decided certain tricks worked just as well the second time and aimed at the puddle.

With the explosive shells the sound of his shotgun was like a cannon, exploding through the room, as the projectiles blew a hole the size of most people's upper bodies in the floor and ignited the alcohol, as Slade swiveled the shotgun and fired again, blasting another massive hole to cut He Who Kills off, as the fire swept up and consumed the doll with a shriek…

Slade grinned fiercely beneath his mask.

And then the Zuni Fetish Doll leapt out of the flames, a little scorched but still going. The fire danced in the burning pits of its gaze.

Slade's eye narrowed. Well, the doll couldn't go back and at this range…

He Who Kills charged, eager for Slade's other eye.

Slade felt the world go into slow motion, as he braced his shotgun, lined up the shot, placed his hand on the trigger, and squeezed…

…And the gun jammed.

As…

* * *

Enough of that exciting stuff. 

The Sugarman was beginning to debate the ventilation problems of a full-face mask when he rounded the corner of the latest hallway and FINALLY found Mumbo again. Geez! How long had he been wandering around looking for him? Well, that didn't matter. They always ended up trapped anyway…

…Mumbo wasn't trapped. He was leaning against the wall, calmly smoking another joint, as if he hadn't a care of the world.

"Oh, are you still around?" He commented. The Sugarman stared, his eyes the only visible part of his face.

"'Ey! Don't you know the rules?" Sugarman snapped. "Now I have to kill you twice over!"

The Sugarman started for Mumbo again…and then stopped.

"Wait, does that sound necessary? He's already dead!" The Sugarman said again, his voice different from before…as he shifted his stance just a bit.

"I feel like ice cream. Who else?" The Sugarman said again. The voice this time was considerably more effeminate then the last two.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" The Sugarman yelled, back to his 'normal' voice, and as Mumbo watched the Sugarman hauled off and began smacking himself in the head. "I AM TRYING TO WORK HERE!"

"Working hard, or hardly working?" Mumbo said, and snorted laughter at his own joke. The Sugarman glared at him. Bastard was stoned out of his gourd, and that meant even more he was supposed to die, but if the Sugarman got close he'd just start running again stupid…wait.

"Wait a sec…if he's high…then…" The Sugarman said, and began to approach. Mumbo's eyes grew wide and skittish.

"NO! IF YOU KEEP RUNNING, THE DRAGONS WILL EAT YOUR ACORNS!" The Sugarman yelled.

"But I have my yams!" Mumbo retorted. Sugarman almost swerved off course at that, but managed to keep going.

"Don't tell me you don't like acorn stew! Do you want the dragons to win?"

"NEVER!" Mumbo declared, as he stood up straight and thumped his chest.

"Good! Then don't run!"

"I will never run!"

"So then you die!" Sugarman said, as he charged.

"EKKKKKKKK! HOW AM I SO THOUROUGLY TRAPPED?" Mumbo shrieked. "…Wait, I've seen some of these films! People who have tragic pasts never die! I just have to remember my terrible heart-wrenching history!"

_"Sorry son, the tiger cage is closed for repairs." Mumbo's father said at the zoo entrance.  
"__WAHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"Oh bran muffins." Mumbo said, as the Sugarman closed in…

And then an exclamation point appeared above Mumbo's head. He looked up at it.

"Whoa, this is some good shit. Or I just saw Solid Snake. Or I have an idea." Mumbo said. "Ah right, it was an idea! HALT, YOU GORE-MET!"

"Ugh. You should die just for that pun." The Sugarman said.

"I am not dying today! For I am, THE AMAZING MUMBO!" Mumbo said, as he jumped back with a wave of his cape. "And I have nastier tricks under my hat…" Mumbo said, as he swept his hat off. "Then you could ever produce! Now…!" Mumbo said as he stuck his hand into the hat…

As a small thought behind his drug-induced haze piped up reminding him magic was all messed up…

As Mumbo's eyes went wide, as he felt the trick go terribly wrong.

"Oops. This blows. Er…sucks. Wow, I've never had it be literal..."

And Mumbo was yanked into his hat, his arm pulling his shoulders and head in with it as the hat sucked his whole top half in before it jammed, leaving Mumbo's legs kicking and flailing as he staggered around, the hat stuck over his top half and leaving him unable to see…

As he fell down the stairs.

The crashing noises as he did so sounded as painful as anything Sugarman could do, as he stood there, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

"But...but WE were supposed to kill him! I know, it's not fair! Seriously, man, did anybody actually READ the script? I feel like a biscotti…where are we anyway, I don't recognize this SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

* * *

And speaking of reading the script, it looked like Slade hadn't either, as the sound of the dull noise of his gun failing to fire when he finally had the proper shot rang through his ears like a gong, as He Who Kills leapt with a soul-rending shriek, his knife pointed straight for Slade once more… 

As he froze in mid-air.

Slade stared. The Zuni Fetish Doll had literally stopped a few feet in front of him, as it realized it was frozen as well and began thrashing and screaming, but it was unable to escape whatever held it.

Someone began blasting the fire with fire extinguishers, filling the area in front of Slade with misty white…

And then, like any conquering hero in any brain-dead summer blockbuster, Control Freak strolled out, remote in hand, having paused the creature He Who Kills, pulled from the movie known as _Trilogy of Terror_, right in front of Slade. The creature shrieked in rage, as Control Freak smirked and ignited his four-bladed lightsaber ripoff.

"Lemme get a slice of this action!"

And he slashed out with his laser blades, and He Who Kills let off one more fearsome howl before he was sliced to pieces.

Slade watched the parts fall, dropping to the ground, as dead and motionless as any puppet would normally be…and then as Slade watched, the parts began to fade away, like film being exposed to sun, until they vanished entirely. Leaving not a trace of the havoc caused.

And all by one little puppet (possessed by a savage warrior spirit and given a little outside help, true, but still).

"My fellow villains!" Control Freak declared: he had not been vaporized or run away, no, he had been struck by the shockwave that had been unleashed when this had begun and been thrown through the broken door Brick had found barricaded with tossed furniture, where he had lain unconscious for a bit (and had a few dreams far too disgusting to mention here) before waking up and hearing the chaos outside. It had taken work to get the unmoved wreckage out of the way, but he'd had perfect timing nonetheless and had actually saved Slade Wilson, SLADE WILSON, from injury or worse. Add on top of that just what situation threatened the villains and you can't blame Control Freak for seizing the moment, as he made an extravagant flourish with one arm, holding his quad-laser sword in the other. "Far be it from me to gloat! After all, you've excluded me. For years, you've treated me like so much dirt. I am used to this. I was beaten up by the football team when I petitioned to have Klingon added to my school's foreign language curriculum. And when I was baptized as a born again Jedi, my parents disowned me. But in the present, you wouldn't let me into your little bar. 'You're underage', you said. 'You smell bad', you said. Well it's a freakin' VILLAIN BAR, so what the hell do YOU care about drinking ages? What, you can take on the Teen Titans, but you're afraid of ONE LITTLE LAW? Perchaw! But I digress. Sure, some of you may be thinking that this is my fault, and sure, some of you may be saying my remote was the key to unleash all this, and sure, some of you may think that you should just lynch me now and be done with it…"

"He's finally talkin' sense! I got some rope!" Handyman yelled.

"But, er, um, you can't! Because you need me." Control Freak said. "Oh sure, you can all handle superheroes, but apparently not little voodoo dolls, Freddy Krueger, and Shatner knows what else that's coming! This is beyond all of your experience. You're playing in the old CF's corner now! This is my world, and I can help you get out of it!" Control Freak said. "But…I want an apology."

And Slade slammed the butt of his shotgun against Control Freak's head so hard he nearly forget 75 of his memorized episodes of Doctor Who, as he crashed to the ground, fortunately not falling on his laser weapon and cauterizing his guts.

"If it weren't a waste of a bullet, YOU WOULD BE DEAD." Slade hissed. "So new deal. You will do whatever I tell you, impart whatever useless knowledge that will aid us in surviving this GARBAGE you have forced on us, and then you will be grateful if you are ever allowed to eat solid food again!"

"…Deal." Control Freak whimpered.

And Sorceress, from where she still sat on the floor, finally got her answer. She had wondered how Slade Wilson would react when he finally realized just what the situation. When his rigid imagination, able to handle such things as teenage superheroes but unable to let in much else, would be put to the test against such things as horror characters coming to life and nearly doing something as serious as fully blinding him.

And the answer was…not well. Not well at all.

This was not going to be a fun night.

"Now…in case anyone was wondering…" Slade began.

"LEMME AT YOU YOU…!" Mumbo yelled as he staggered into the bar with his hat still eating him.

And Slade blew him in half, the high explosion shells tearing through Mumbo's body like nothing, as his legs fell to the floor in a spray of blood.

"…Oops." Slade said. "Did anybody see that?"

"Pretty much all of us saw it." Jack commented.

"I see. Friendly fire. Happens all the time. That's why I told you to all stay together, so the people with the guns don't get surprised." Slade said, as he ejected the shells from his shotgun. "Now clean up this place. And I mean everybody. We don't want to give anything that comes ANY advantages. You saw how well one small fast target was able to effectively neutralize all of us. That won't happen again. Or next time I WON'T be making a mistake." Slade said, as he began reloading.

Jack bit off making another sarcastic comment, as he turned around to look at the bar, hunting for another bottle…and noticed, in one swift movement, the stranger Doctor Westminster putting his surgical mask back on.

Jack narrowed his eyes. The movement certainly looked furtive to him. Jack didn't care what the Lord said about the bloke, he knew something was wrong about him. After all, if the Lord was so smart, why was he dead?

"And clean up the bodies too. We don't need their stench infecting the place." Slade said as well.

"Uh, Slade?" The Handyman called.

"What?"

"You may want to come here."

Slade walked over.

"What is it Handyman." Slade said in a no-nonsense tone.

"Well uh, just wondering…where's the rest of him?" The Handyman said.

And Slade looked down and saw that indeed, only Mumbo's legs and a touch of his waist remained: the only other thing that was left was his hat, soaking in the pool of blood left from Mumbo's passing.

"…I don't know."

* * *

MumboWorld. 

"We got ourselves a mystery on our hands, here." The Mumbo Policeman said as he looked at the dead upper half of Mumbo, his sightless eyes still locked in the shock of whatever had hit him in his last moments.

"…Wait." The other Mumbo Policeman said. "How come we still exist? I thought we were a magically created figment of Mumbo's bra-"

And the entire dimension collapsed, leaving Mumbo's upper body to bleed off into a featureless plane.

* * *

"Perhaps we should send someone to…" Slade said, and then stopped himself with great irritation. He couldn't send someone else off alone, because they'd die. That was how these…films worked, Jesus Christ, how had his life come to this? The concept hurt him more then He Who Kills ever could have. 

"Never mind." He said in a low growl, and turned away from the doorway and Mumbo's legs.

"How do you like that! No respect for protocol! Nyuk nyuk!" The Sugarman said at the top of the stairs.

"Did I hear something?" Slade asked.

The Sugarman found that with the proper motivation, he very well could run.

And as Control Freak watched everyone move, while holding his aching head, and Slade walking around like he knew what he was talking about, when it was clear he didn't want a damn thing to do with it and resented everything about it, but no way could Control Freak be in charge because he was the great Slade Wilson…

"Bastards…" Control Freak hissed under his breath. "This isn't over. By Grabthar's hammer, by the sons of Worvan, I shall be avenged-!"

And then Brick gave Control Freak a light smack. To him a light smack still nearly knocked Control Freak clean out again.

"I do not like to resort to violence to get a point across, so I will just point out to avoid any more repercussions, most likely by people far less kind then me, that your odds of surviving this if you maintain any delusions of paying us back are very poor." Brick said.

"I'll be good." Control Freak groaned. "…But just you wait! You'll all die off! You're catnip to them! They'll get you all! All of you! But I'll survive! Hahahahaha…!"

Brick raised a hand again.

"I'll be quiet now."

* * *

"This is nuts!" The Sugarman said, now up on the roof of the Villain Café. "They're supposed to let ME kill them, and if they're not locking their doors and running away, they're killin' themselves and being' stoopid!" 

The slasher twitched for a few seconds, as smoke bloomed up next to him and a ghostly outline of Freddy appeared.

"Oh don't worry. The shit's still rising, and soon, they'll be up to their eyeballs in it! AHAHAHAAA!" Freddy laughed.

"……………………..I think that was supposed to be the end of the chapter, but someone missed their cue. How unprofessional." The Sugarman said. "Hey tall, dark, and hideously scarred, you doing anything later?"

"What? I am organizing a grand nightmare shitstain! I have to plan their gruesome ends, not make time with some no-budget straight to DVD wannabe!"

"Oh, you don't have time for little old me?" The Sugarman said in a sultry female voice.

Freddy kicked the slasher off the roof.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!" CRASH! "THANKS! THAT ONE'S ALWAYS BEEN A REALLY BIG BITCH!"

Freddy smacked his clawed hand into his forehead again (palm first, idiots). What had happened to the genre he reigned over? What piece of putrid muck had he pulled the Sugarman from? Oh who cared, if the readers gave a damn they could go find him themselves. Though Freddy doubted they would: if they were so stupid to read something like this all the way here, there were pretty much above only one category of people in terms of intelligence: the people who allowed such movies to be made.

"Who greenlights this shit?" He growled, and vanished back into the ether.

* * *

**_Next Time, In Boogeymen III!_**

_IN THE HALL OF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE…_

"_So, should we help them?" Green Lantern said._

"_Hell no!" Superman said, as he tossed some popcorn into his mouth. "This is the best thing we'd had on TV all year!"_

"_God, you can be such a dick."_

**8888**_  
_

"_Why are YOU in such a bleeding good mood?" Mad Mod snapped to Torque._

"_Hm, I'm not sure. It may be because having my head turned around has given me a new perspective on life. Or perhaps blood is pooling in the back of my head, inducing a mild delirium."_

**8888** _  
_

"_If video games have taught me anything, hiding under this crate will allow me to move completely undetected!' Control Freak said as he lifted up the box._

"_Get your own box fatso!" Solid Snake said as he kicked Control Freak off the roof._

"_Sweet! Thanks magic box!" Sugarman said._

"_Uh…you're welcome…"_

**8888** _  
_

"…_one leg?" Said Nightwalker._

**8888**_  
_

"_Dammit Slade, cut the gray wire!"_

"_For the last time Freddy, THEY'RE ALL GRAY!"_

"…_what a twist!" Blackfire said._

**8888**_  
_

"_So Torque, how DO you go to the bathroom?"_

"_Carefully."_


	3. Smell My Feet

_Part 3: Smell My Feet_

Reader's Note: Well uh…man that last chapter was pretty long too wasn't it? Ha ha! Uh…I'm really not TRYING to do this you know…

_**You'd be alone in that.**_

What are YOU doing here?

_**You know very well! Oh let's surprise the readers and kill the Lord first! Well now you get Plan B. This fic is far too much parody and not enough horror! The readers have demonstrated this fact by not understanding that the Next Time's are part of the joke too and ONLY ONE MAY BE ACCURATE IN SOME WAY, WHILE THE REST ARE MADE UP AND WILL NOT ACTUALLY HAPPEN OR REFLECT THE STORY. While I was smart enough to know this, I was apparently dumb enough to not know when to stop talking, thanks to you! Well, if I can't participate in the plot, then I'll participate in other ways!**_

Oh really, and what did you have in mind?

_**Why, real life horror dear creator. Give them some REAL chills that stupid horror movies never managed.**_

Great. One problem.

_**I cannot foresee what that would be.**_

I start the story whenever I want.

**_And how will_**

* * *

"I may never stop smiling." Kurai said, grinning like a fool. 

"Oh come off it." Rose said, as she snapped open a lighter to light the cigarette that now protruded from her mouth. "You weren't that great."

"That was certainly not the impression I was getting three minutes ago!"

"Oh please. Considering my mood, you probably could have been a corpse and done the deed." Rose said, as she inhaled and blew out smoke. Kurai's face grew cross, but after a few seconds of wrestling with it he let it go. He was skilled in many areas…but what he and Rose had just done was…

…What had he and Rose JUST DONE?

A brief look of horror flashed over Kurai's face. Slade-sama could be VERY hard to read at times, and while he certainly wasn't protective of Rose as a father would be in some ways, Kurai had never been able to tell his reaction to THIS, because…how had…they'd…!

Now he was beginning to see where all the complaints about these choices came from. Talk about screwing things up! Now what…

"You realize we can't tell Daddy, right, Kurai?" Rose said, as she blew more smoke out.

"Ah….yes…hai, Rose. Perhaps it would be best if he did not know…improper situation…and all…in fact, we'd best be getting his weapons back to him and…wait a moment Rose-chan, since when do you smoke?"

"Since…I…wait it…it seemed appropriate but…I don't recall having a lighter…or cigarettes…" Rose said.

Before Rose could do any more pondering on the strange situation though, new matters interjected itself, as both she and Kurai, at roughly the same time, spied movement at the foot of the bed they had…rested on.

Despite what had happened, not to mention her recent mental weakening, Rose's awareness of the world and more precisely where her weapon was had not yet faded, as with a flash she had reached out, produced her revolver, and cocked it, aiming it at the movement as Kurai wreathed a hand in energy and did the same.

"What is it?" Kurai asked.

"I just caught a glimpse, very slight, hard to…" Rose said, and then went silent as the movement started up again…as the source of the movement finally made its way up to the foot of the bed.

To say it was perhaps the last thing Kurai and Rose had expected was an understatement.

"Mew." The kitten meowed.

It was no monster, no creature, no fiend from the depths of hell or chaotic movie magic. It was just a kitten, completely and utterly black. And, as Rose saw it, a runt, so small it could have easily fit on the palm of her hand.

"…A cat?" Kurai said in confusion.

"Kitty!" Rose said delightedly, as Kurai's eyes snapped to her, as the bimbo swiftly and forcibly reared its ugly head.

The runt kitten seemed unimpressed, as it flattened its ears against its skull and hissed. A normal cat doing this would be off-putting: when this tiny kitten did it it was utterly adorable, as it started down the bed towards the two.

"How did we not notice this before?" Kurai asked, as he got up out of the bed and began locating his clothing.

"Who cares? Cute!" Rose said, waving her fingers as the kitten approached. It hissed again.

"It doesn't seem very friendly." Kurai commented.

"Oh don't be silly!" Rose replied as the kitten slowly made its way up the big bed by its tiny feet.

"I'd still like to know how we hadn't noticed it." Kurai said. In reality, he and Rose hasn't noticed it because it had been on the other side of the room, sleeping. Kurai kicking the door open when he'd re-entered the room had woken it up, and it had indeed been mewing and hissing at the two from the side of the bed for some time now. However, seeing as how Kurai and Rose had been so occupied they hadn't notice a slasher trying to violently kick down the front door, it's not really a surprise they hadn't noticed the runt kitten, who had finally found a way up onto the bed by climbing up a partially kicked off sheet, and was now coming in range of Rose's hand.

"Ohhhhh, he's so widdle!" Rose said. The runt batted at her hand, and Rose giggled…but Kurai recognized an offensive blow rather then a curious attempt to touch, even when made by a tiny kitten. It was like the small cat was trying to attack Rose, which Rose remained completely oblivious too.

"Come here kitty!" Rose cooed, putting her hand down on the bed. The kitten moved forward swiftly…too swiftly, as it butted its head against Rose's wrist and tumbled off her hand, dazed. Rose laughed delightedly.

"Rose, while you seem to be enjoying yourself, I could swear it is trying to attack you." Kurai said as he sat back down again next to Rose.

"Oh come on! Why would it be trying to attack us?" Rose asked.

"It could be another manifestation of the horror world. This tiny form could be a feint to trick unsuspecting victims."

"Then why hasn't it attacked us yet?"

"I am uncertain…waiting for the right time? Defective brain? Defense of territory…which would be more likely if it was just a normal animal and not a manifestation…which brings up the question, what is something like this doing in the sleeping chambers of the LORD? The inhuman butcher who condemned hundreds of thousands to death as easily as you and I could do for this small creature?" Kurai said, as he stretched out his hand towards the recovered kitten, touching it gently. "Hmmmm. It does seem like little more then a normal…"

The runt bit Kurai's finger.

"OWTCH!" Kurai said, snatching his hand back. Rose laughed delightedly. "Rose, one might say this reinforces at least some part of my theory!"

"Oh come on Kurai." Rose said, as Kurai leaned down a bit, picked up the tiny kitten, and put him in his hand as he brought him up close to his face, sternly pointing with his other finger.

"Do stop this! It is not amusing!" Kurai chastised, using his much larger size in combination with a slightly raised voice to make the kitten know who was in charge.

The runt clawed Kurai across the nose.

"IYEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Kurai shrieked, dropping the kitten on the bed as he reared back, clutching his face like a psychotic cannibal had bitten his nose off rather then it being raked by very tiny claws. Rose laughed delightedly again, while the kitten shook its head, its fur a bit frizzed up by the sudden drop.

"NOOO! My nose! Now I'll never be asked to the prom!" Kurai lamented.

"Considering what just happened between us, isn't the concept of going to the prom a bit redundant?" Rose said, and petted the kitten. It batted at her hand, as Kurai lowered his own, slight anger in his eyes: he didn't think the little creature was a horror manifestation any more, but the kitten WAS trying to attack them, trying to drive them off for some unfathomable reason, how could he…

And then Rose began to scratch it behind the ears.

All hostilities ceased immediately, as the tiny kitten began purring as loud as it could, leaning its head into the scratches.

"See? Just a little cute thing." Rose said.

"Indeed. If it wasn't so cute, I WOULD FLASH FRY IT RIGHT NOW!" Kurai snapped.

And abruptly found Rose's gun pointing at his head with her free arm.

"But why would I do that?" Kurai said. The gun went away.

"It's fine." Rose said, as she stopped scratching. "Go on, pet it."

Apprehensive, Kurai reached down.

The runt headbutted his hand again.

"I'm not sure he likes me." Kurai said, as the runt lay briefly stunned. He leaned down to face the kitten, as it approached his face. Not wanting a repeat, he too began scratching behind its ears.

Back to purring. Well at least it wasn't him.

"I shall call you…Bob." Kurai said.

"Bob?"

"What's wrong with Bob…" Kurai said, as he briefly took his hand off the kitten's head, as the kitten blinked, realized the scratching was gone, looked at Kurai's still leaned down the bed face as his eyes flicked back towards the tiny animal…and then promptly bit him on the nose.

"UWAHHHHHHHH!" Kurai yelped, rearing back again. Rose laughed once more and resumed the scratching behind the ears. Once again, the kitten forgot all about his apparent 'job' and purred contently.

"Oh, aren't you a little kitty?" Rose cooed, as Kurai glared at the two over the hand holding his nose.

"Why would you ask him such an obvious question?" Kurai said, his voice slightly nasal and hence quite comical.

"It's just how you talk to cats, silly." Rose said, and giggled. Kurai looked at the white/blond-haired woman. _Despite myself I am rather missing the Rose who would have already castrated me for even considering what we just did._

"Well Rose, as cute as it is, to YOU anyway, we still must return the weapons to Slade-sama posthaste." Kurai said, as he got off the bed and resumed dressing. Rose nodded, and with a sigh she got up and stopped scratching behind the kitten's ears. Once removed of its pleasure, the kitten stared for a bit, and then began mewing and hissing at the two. But with both of them off the bed, it was unable to get near them, as the height from the floor to the bed was too high for such a small creature, and it knew it. It was reduced to batting the air towards Rose and hissing, but Rose just waved back each time.

"I would still like to know where it came from." Kurai said, putting on his boots even as Rose finished dressing herself, as the kitten ran back and forth, mewing at them, but they remained far out of reach.

"Well there's still that remaining door." Rose said, pointing to the one on the right side of the room, Kurai's exit and return to the bedroom having both been on the left.

"Yes but it seems closed…then again, it was so small, perhaps it crawled under…" Kurai said, as he headed over to the door. Rose, tying her hair back up, started heading over to him as he ignited energy on one hand (it seemed to be coming somewhat stronger now, good, nowhere near his usual peak but he definitely felt like he could handle any threat now, unlike before when he'd had a few small worried doubts) and reached for the door with the other.

It was unlocked, and opened inward, and Kurai swept it open to see inside the room…

And once again, despite himself, again found the last thing he had been expecting.

The room was about the size of an average room in a boarding house, and it was filled with a carefully constructed little world, a giant playground if you will, complete with litter boxes, lined bowls for food and water…and about eight or nine kittens, who immediately ran to greet the strangers with friendly, inquisitive, and above all cute mews.

"…What the…?" Kurai said, utterly aghast.

"KITTIES! MORE KITTIES!" Rose squealed, as she leaned down as the kittens came to her, looking for attention and food. They were, unlike the runt on the bed, average sized kittens, thought they were also mostly black, with a few mixed colors…and this made no sense. Why was this chamber attached to THE LORD'S ROOM?

"Kittens?" Kurai said, as he leaned down and picked one up. Unlike the runt, who was glowering at them from the bed it was still trapped on, clearly mad it couldn't get to them or that no attention was being paid to it any more, this kitten just looked at him with curious eyes. Kurai began petting it, and it purred. Kurai stood there, mystified, while Rose laughed and tried to pet all the remaining child animals the same time.

"…They must be for his pagan sacrifices!" Kurai thought out loud.

"What?" Rose said from down where she knelt.

"Well, what other reason would this room be here, and have such occupants! The Lord is a monster! Not a spark of anything left in him…"

"So why would he open a bar and not kill everyone the second someone looked at him the wrong way?" Rose pointed out, and Kurai was left confused again. "Besides, I don't think there's much paganism in a classic or misapplied sense to the magicks he wields. Kitties!" Rose said.

"…Whatever the reason, it really occurs to me this is decidedly disturbing." Kurai said, putting the kitten down. It returned to Rose, as she slipped into the room and, finding a button, curiously pressed it.

It did not trigger some horrendous death trap that the kittens had been used as live bait for. Instead, it dropped food and water into their mostly empty dishes. If the kittens liked Rose before, they now utterly adored her. As she giggled and laughed, Kurai snorted and went back into the bedroom.

As the runt finally found a way down, locating a pillow that had been knocked off the bed from the previous 'activity', and jumped down to it. It shook its head again, and then got off the pillow. Kurai saw it heading for him.

"Back for more, eh?"

The runt headbutted his ankle, which did nothing but stun it again, and as Kurai looked down in amusement it mewed at him and pawed at his boot, but this time its claws were nothing against the thick armored material. Kurai considered giving it a very very very (VERY) light blow for the damage it had done to his nose, but decided against it: it was so small even such a blow could harm it, and if it was waiting in the room the Lord might…and the Lord was dead, Kurai reminded himself. He'd even spat on the corpse when Slade wasn't looking for the dishonor the night god had shown him earlier. Runt kittens that were inexplicably (?) in his room were the least of his concerns. Yet…he did not harm it. It was, in the end…just a runt, which was gnawing on a shoelace of his boot. Kurai gently yanked it free, and the runt fell over, dazed.

"Rose-chan! We really must go!" Kurai called. Rose finally managed to extricate herself from the kittens, and after saying her goodbyes, closed the door to a few sad mews.

"Oh, he got down! Should we put him in the room too?" Rose asked, as the runt hissed at her again. Rose didn't even notice.

"I think he would prefer to stay in the main room. Just a thought."

"Okay." Rose said, as she leaned down and scratched the kitten behind the ears one last time, as it stopped being hostile and purred like Rose was its everything in the world. "Bye bye sweetie. You should be safe in here."

"Unless one of the creatures spawned by this strange effect desires Chinese food, but I have considerable doubts on that." Kurai said. Rose gave the Japanese teen a dirty look and a whack on the shoulder.

"So are we going through the side door?"

"No, the main door is larger, we must move the crate through that. It has a lift, should be no trouble. I unlocked the main door when I was in there before, and we should scout the hallway to make sure there are no changes which could inconvenience us…" Kurai said, heading for the exit door with Rose.

As the runt kitten stared after them, and then followed, mewing at them.

"No you can't come with us, you'll be safe in here. Bye bye sweetie!" Rose waved as she and Kurai left the room, and closed the door as the runt kitten ran towards it.

It looked at the closed door, and then, satisfied that it had chased off the intruders that had invaded its master's room, the kitten marched back several feet and placed itself in a sitting position in front of the door, guarding the room against and all threats that might assail it.

For a little under two minutes, before its head dipped to the ground and the tiny kitten dozed off, sleeping before the bed it had tried so hard to protect. The sleep of the just.

* * *

"So what's your story?" Nightwalker asked. 

It wasn't exactly what she wanted to do, but the trip had not turned out in any of the ways Nightwalker had expected or feared. So far, the territory of streets and buildings around the villain's café seemed unchanged, with no warping or distorting effects she had been able to perceive. She still had her gauntlets armed and her radar, sonar, and motion detector attachments on (they would be more effective if she fully 'put her helmet on', but she needed to save power for when she really needed the complicated assemblage that way, as she couldn't just go into the nearest convenience store and buy new batteries for it), but they had yet to be needed as she walked through the streets in the part of town Moriarty's was located in (which was mostly warehouses, one of which held the stockpile of weapons Slade had directed her to retrieve).

But it wasn't ALL warehouses. They were close to other buildings, including a few multi story ones, and that was what unnerved her. Nightwalker had earlier taken a brief glance outside, and had reported how quiet it was. Too quiet. And that unnatural quiet hadn't changed an iota. There was literally no sound at all. Not encountering anybody, even a rat or an insect, that was unnerving enough, but with the air so still, so placid…so calm…

She had to speak. She couldn't let the only noise be the sound of clothes rustling and the click of the White Hole's feet on the street, even IF the White Hole wasn't known for being sociable. Hell, Nightwalker had seen firsthand just what kind of creature Rebecalnatrac Styilnifanalan really was…and yet…

Why not talk to her?

Anything was better then this silence.

And so she'd spoken, taking her eyes off the distant dark buildings (strange, the power was still out there, yet here the streetlights worked…luck…or design?) to look at the alien…who cocked her head.

"What do you mean?" She asked. The tone SEEMED neutral, seemed as if the White Hole had taken no offense at the question…but Nightwalker couldn't be sure. Still, she'd asked, no sense backing out now.

"Well…I don't know much about you. All I've heard is you're some alien bigshot warrior, an ultra-elite, who everyone was afraid of in who knows how many galaxies until you showed up on this planet to kill the Titan Scalpel and didn't. Hell, I heard the Titans killed you. Though it seems rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated." Nightwalker swiftly added.

"Not really. Troll the river and you'll find the body." The White Hole said.

Nightwalker stared.

"What?"

"Or a body." White Hole added.

Nightwalker kept staring. She was no stranger to the concept of death's inability to be absolute in this world (hell, The Lord had been warned against mocking Death of the Endless, who was, from the little Nightwalker knew, the manifestation of one of the seven most primal and essential forces of all existence, though Nightwalker didn't know the other six, but considering how loose Death's grip seemed to be on the living sometimes, it wasn't surprising she (Nightwalker had heard it was a she, if you could really apply sexes to what these so-called Endless were) would just ignore such taunts and derision. Which made one wonder what WOULD it take for Death to be offended enough to actually show her face and interfere in certain matters…but that was a pondering for another time). Hell, the last time this Boogeymen invasion had happened, she had herself died, at the hands of Sadako from _Ringu_. But the chaos manifestation of that famously creepy Japanese ghost (even IF Kurai thought it was a comedy, but hell he seemed to think all horror movies were comedies!) had been stopped almost immediately afterward, and with the chaos magic reversal came the reversing of its crimes. Hell, she'd been dead so shortly it was more like being knocked out then clinical brain death. But that had had extenuating factors up the wazoo. From what Nightwalker had heard, the White Hole's death had come from the far less exotic way of being shot in the head, the Blacktrinian species having an almost universal weakness to bullets (a weird quirk of evolution due to their species never developing guns, instead fighting for aeons with hand to hand weapons and over time evolving a hide and a body that would resist said weapons quite well: you had to WORK to kill a Blacktrinian with say, a sword, while a gun will kill them even easier then a human in more then a few circumstances). Nothing really special about that, no real backdoors or loopholes.

Yet here she was.

"…Then how are you here?" Nightwalker asked.

"That's my secret." The White Hole said, as she briefly pointed at Nightwalker with her free clawed hand, the other holding her mace. "But know this. I am as fit as I've ever been."

"…Uh…right…" Nightwalker said. "Good to know…but…surely there's more then that."

Much to her amazement, the White Hole looked thoughtful. She would not think such a creature could have such an expression.

"There's…not really much to tell now that I think of it." The White Hole said. She seemed to be ready to keep talking, but instead paused again. Nightwalker took the time to check the directions, and pointed to the way they were to turn next.

"We all have a story." Nightwalker said, as they began said turn. "It's how you want to tell it that makes the amount of content."

The White Hole seemed to think it over again.

"Well…I guess I joined the military and was promoted via apprenticeship."

"So do millions of others, human and alien alike. They're not the same as you. EVERYONE is on eggshells to some degree with you, even Slade Wilson! Why? You only killed a few people in the attacks I knew about…the Lord and the Sorceress killed thousands! Millions, maybe! Yet they don't get a quarter of the fear you do."

"Their combined total time of deathdealing lasted maybe a week at most. I've been killing people, of all kinds, for 1400 years."

"Well I suppose that-1400 YEARS!"

"Did I stutter?" The White Hole replied.

"No but…1400 years? Your species lives that long?"

"…No…no, actually…I'm a extraordinarily rare exception…I've been doing this for a lot longer then many Blacktrinians have been alive…" The White Hole said.

"…Ok…so…what's your reason?"

"…What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm in the military…"

"Still? Considering what's happened? That doesn't fully answer it. Why are you?" Nightwalker asked. "To be more specific, why are you doing something like bartending? The only one I can think of that even begins to match your reputation for savagery and carnage and death would be that alien bounty hunter, what's his name, Lobo, and yet I don't see him standing behind a counter wearing a uniform and mixing drinks."

"It's…somewhat hard to explain in both cases. I needed somewhere to stew and think. Defeat is…somewhat foreign to me."

"You never lost in 1400 years?"

"I have. I got my rear handed to me for the first hundred years of my life…had I been someone else it could have been much longer, but I learned fast."

"That's still over an eon with no failure at all."

"You put words in my mouth. Stop." The White Hole, and Nightwalker shrank back, worried she stepped over a line. "I have failed over that period. Failure on my part, on my superiors…but I'm not just quick. I'm vengeful. I fail, I come back and show them it won't happen again."

"…And here on Earth…the Titans…it was the first time it happened again?"

"In about 600 years."

"…Long time." Nightwalker said.

There was silence, and Nightwalker checked the notes.

"We're close. We should be there soon." Nightwalker said. She let the last part of the sentence go unsaid. _Provided we don't run into any trouble._

"And really…I never seemed to fail when it was entirely me." The White Hole said. "There were…other factors…in the other times. Other minds who seemed to possess more of the flaw…their choices. Their actions…sometimes their…betrayals."

"…But not here?"

"…No." The White Hole said. "This was…entirely me…strange…the thought used to send me…into an uncontrollable fury…yet now…it brings a new thought. How the same used to be thought…of the betrayals I suffered…and yet now…betrayal…compared to outright loss…hmph." The alien snorted. "Betrayal…it seems…so petty…and yet it lurks…behind so many faces…"

It was at that time when the White Hole glanced at her that Nightwalker wished she had her helmet up, as the White Hole's words stabbed into a deep-seated wound in Nightwalker's being, as a brief expression flashed across her face…a great mix of things. Regret. Sadness. A stoic clarity. And a wisdom that spoke of experience. It was far more complicated then pretty much every look that had preceded a knife stuck in the alien's back…and the White Hole knew it wasn't an intention directed towards her. It was a memory.

"You betrayed someone?" She asked, turning the 'interrogation' around.

Nightwalker blinked. While she'd wanted to know the alien's story, she realized that she wasn't wholly sure if she wanted to tell hers…to be reminded of what she'd done, and why…and why despite all her attempts to reason it away, it remained, tiny but there, gnawing at her heart and soul.

"Well…it's just that…one could…I…"

Nightwalker's words cut off abruptly. She didn't need any scanning equipment to tell her. She could feel it in her gut. Something had changed in the air.

The White Hole realized almost simultaneously. She could smell it.

"I sense trouble is coming." The White Hole said, lowering her mace into both her hands.

"You and me both." Nightwalker said, as she pressed a button and her helmet fully activated, forming over her head, her scanners going to full power as…

The fog that blew in seemed unnatural, more like London then Florida…yet at the same time it seemed like the type of water vapor that could rise from manholes given the right circumstances.

The fact that it just covered the street before them made Nightwalker realize she didn't need any type of threat detection. Whatever was coming would be heading straight for the two.

"Tell me Nightwalker…do you have an actual name or were your parents engorged with narcotics when they named you?" The White Hole said.

"…Sine. My name is Sine."

"Sine…perhaps my original posing is still accurate. Is that a first or last name?"

"It just is." Sine said, as she traced her fingers across her left gauntlet. She felt ok…despite the power blockage, she felt ok, the loss would be minimal, she'd trained her body not her gifts, she'd be ready…then why did she still feel odd? And not just from butterflies?

"As you will." The White Hole replied.

"What should I call you? The White Hole doesn't exactly lend itself to universal use."

"Call me White Hole, Styles, or Rebecca. But not Becky. These creatures will be denied your life because I will take it if you call me Becky."

"What about Jack?"

"That incorrigible joke of a monster is only alive because the Lord insists I try and be polite when I am working. Which I am now not." The White Hole said. "Tell me Sine, you lived through this once…so to speak. Can you give me any indication what could be coming?"

"Did you not watch us like we were some kind of sick reality show, if what the Lord said is any way accurate?" Nightwalker retorted.

"Yes, but the memories of an observing do not lend themselves well to imprinting as well as living it does. All I really recall is I lost my shirt in the survival wagers and Killjoy and Slade made a fortune because they placed a bet that the asinine Buzz Bomb would survive when none of us were looking, it seems." The White Hole said, as her grip tightened. "So, what is there in that fog that we could expect?"

The fog that had a figure in it, if Nightwalker's sensors inside her high-tech helmet were any way accurate. And they should be.

"Honestly Styles, all I can say is an old Earth expression." Nightwalker said, as she aimed. "Expect the unexpected."

* * *

Kurai could tell two things when he returned to the bar, pushing the large crate with Rose. One was there had been another fight, though Kurai could only tell the barest details: the bar had been fully cleaned up (in a sense that all the mess had been put in an out of sight out of mind) location. 

And the other was that his master was not happy.

That may have partially explained why Slade kept his shotgun pointed at the two of them when they started thumping the crate down the stairs all the way until they were fully in the room with both of them fully visible.

"Master. It was concealed somewhat, but we were able to locate your cache of weapons." Kurai said, holding his hands up just to make sure Slade didn't get trigger-happy at him. Rose didn't seem concerned, but Kurai put that up more to the fact she had returned to the almost slack-jawed mindset he had seen before. He was beginning to notice a parallel: anything that dumped adrenaline into Rose's brain seemed to chase away the fog that had drifted over it when this whole incident had begun. But not fully, and it didn't take long before it returned.

"…Well done my apprentice." Slade said as he raised his shotgun up and away from them, but his voice only had the slightest touch of actual praise. Not that Slade gushed over them, but the approval in Slade's voice for succeeding in this was so small Kurai felt the need to produce a microscope to verify it. Yes, something had definitely aggrieved his master, and considering how few things could do that, it must have been quite the headache.

Then again, that might mean he would focus on whatever was bothering him and not inquire too deeply into the level of 'concealment' the crate had been under that had caused the delays. Of course that might also mean if he did and Kurai and Rose could not properly hide the incident that had delayed them so much he would be even more upset…

"Hey I'm here too!" Rose said, waving. Slade's eyes narrowed and Kurai gulped.

"Yes Rose. Yes." Slade said in a low tone. Trying to distract any thought with action, Kurai began dragging the crate over to Slade, noticing the setup: Slade was standing before all the villains, who had assembled around him on several tables, like Slade was a teacher in front of a classroom. Kurai noticed Mumbo was gone, but Control Freak was back, and was actually sitting near Slade, which probably meant his master wanted him alive for some reason. There was even a whiteboard, though no writing, and Kurai doubted Slade would actually write on it: it seemed more for effect.

Brick actually got up and helped move the crate the rest of the way, and also removed the metal lid, revealing the carefully packed weapons and ammo inside. Slade began taking guns out, examining them, and in some cases placing the weapons on his person, replacing the hardware Freddy had slashed apart and adding more. Kurai and Rose helped, while the villains watched in mostly silence.

"Hey mate, we gonna get any of those?" Jack asked. Slade just glared at him. "Sorry."

Yes, he was not taking it well, the Sorceress thought near where she sat, at one end of the villain grouping. Slade had, with the attack of the Zuni Doll, finally realized this was just not a threat on his life, but a complete re-ordering of the reality around him that had the bad side effect of putting his life in danger. And that realization was working on him like the grains of sand that oysters turned into pearls. Except Slade probably didn't have a similar defense. Sorceress would almost feel sorry for him if such a thing were in her nature. Even now, in the mechanical task of checking guns and arming himself, even with the blank orange and black mask over his face, Sorceress could swear she saw the vein throbbing in his forehead.

Not handling it well at all. The fools were the one telling the story, and Slade was unable to change the plotline. He was, in many ways, no longer the master of his own destiny. Such a thing was anathema to a man like Slade. Such a thing that was as innately absurd and in many ways STUPID as the 'horror atmosphere' being what had removed his control made it a hundred times worse.

Sorceress wondered what would happen if Slade snapped. And she had the odd thought that no matter what did happen, it would seem strangely…comical.

"That will do for now." Slade said, and indicated for Kurai and Rose to push the crate aside. They did and sat down close to Slade, again on his command. "Now, to begin again, having barely started before my apprentices returned."

Slade picked his shotgun up again, and began reloading it with fresh shells.

"I have spoken extensively to Control Freak, who as you know began this problem with his remote…and whose backup remote lacks the power to do much of us any good in fixing what he wrought." Slade said, glowering at the overweight geek, who cringed away. "All we have left is the layout of this problem we are faced with…and as stupid as the genre of film that has infected our world is, it is now what rules existence abides by. And these rules, as preposterous as they are…they need to be known. As much as I hate to say it, knowing these facts, these nonsensical facts that have been put together by people with far too much time on their hands and lives that grow more wasted by the second, from films that would be better served torturing our enemies then being played in theaters that you have to pay to get into…it may give us an edge. Because sense has left the building. Everything from here on in will just get more hackneyed and puerile. And the only ones who will think it works in any fashion are idiots so great in their brain-dead nature that their minds may as well be black holes sucking in anything remotely intelligent or mature. In conclusion, whoever is writing this script we are trapped in will only show that the concept they have of sense is that nothing they do will make any sense at all!"

* * *

Expect the unexpected…another expression might work better. Do as I say, not as I do, as the obscuring fog/mist/whatever blew away revealing what it had concealed. 

And it wasn't a human with a giant cutting instrument. It wasn't a slavering mutation, or a devilspawn from hell, or a malevolent spirit, or a slime-oozing alien.

It was…

"COUSIN ITT?" Nightwalker said, unable to believe it.

The White Hole's surprise and stupefaction actually exceeded Nightwalker's, mostly because A) Unlike Nightwalker she had no idea what the creature before her was, and B) She had been expecting…something else.

The beings she had seen on the TV last year had all seemed to be inhuman men and women (with a few exceptions), wearing costumes and showing remarkable flair for deadly acts despite their innate weaknesses as a species. The White Hole had expected something in that vein. And instead she got…this. A small midget creature that was utterly covered with hair, from the top of its head to its mostly unseen feet…a creature that was also wearing sunglasses, a derby hat, and white gloves on what could be seen of its arms.

If the White Hole was a creature inclined to humor, she would have collapsed laughing. But she was not, as she slowly turned to Nightwalker.

"WHAT. IS. THIS. THING?" The White Hole hissed. Cousin Itt apparently resented being called a thing, as he moved around a bit, a motion that might have been the equivalent of a human pointing in anger if Itt looked in any way human. It also spoke…but the words, if they were, coming out of Itt's mouth sounded like incomprehensible gibberish: it seemed cross but who could really tell?

"Uh…it's a…creation…of a comedy series…the Addams Family but…" Nightwalker said.

"I was chosen for this because of possible danger. I have seen what can be mustered. I KNOW there is a mastermind. And THIS is what has been brought before me!" The White Hole snapped, pointing at Itt with her mace.

"Well…uh…"

"Oh save your babbling. It matters not." The White Hole said. "What matters is whoever is in charge IS AN ABSOLUTE FOOL OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!"

* * *

"Now…as much as it pains me, that is our situation. And hence, here are the rules it would be best for us to abide by." Slade said. "Number 1. NO SEX." 

Fortunately Slade was standing next to Kurai and didn't notice him pale slightly. Several villains did though, and put two and two together and began to snicker. Sorceress did as well, though she came to a different conclusion. The atmosphere aspect of the chaos magic must have possessed Slade's two apprentices, who before the invasion had constantly been at each other's throats, to act quite differently. It was the fact that such an influence existed, or more precisely could be acted upon the minds of those present, that worried The Sorceress.

"No sex. Sex kills you." Slade said. "Some ancient leftover message of Victorian times and all their repressed nonsense. I don't understand it at all, but it's a mainstay of these stupid movies and hence applies here. Having sex is fatal. This is one situation where a condom won't save you. Assuming you even remembered to use one."

"Oops." Kurai said.

"What was that apprentice?" Slade said, looking at the Japanese teen.

"Nothing, Slade-sama! Ha ha! Nothing suspicious at all!" Kurai babbled. Slade would have probably said something if he hadn't heard several villains snickering again.

"Some wishes to say something?"

"I hate to be the one who points this out." Torque said. "But didn't you just send your daughter off with your very virile apprentice?"

Slade lifted his shotgun and blew Torque away.

Everyone jumped as the backwards madman fell to the floor, very dead. Dr. Light screamed and hid under his table.

Kurai stared at this sudden killing…and then decided he'd best obey whatever order Slade gave in the near future without question. He had a feeling Slade's tolerance had hit record-breaking lows.

"Another important rule of this film genre is to never antagonize armed mercenaries." Slade said. "Bet you didn't see THAT coming in your mirrors, you rat bastard."

* * *

The White Hole's homicidal intentions were far more straightforward. 

"If this is what they will send against me, some kind of joke, then they will learn…" The White Hole growled as she stalked towards Itt, who kept babbling in its nonsense at her, still sounding pretty mad.

"Wait Rebecca! You don't…!" Nightwalker said.

"BE QUIET!" The White Hole snarled, as she hefted her mace…

* * *

"Now…Rule 2. Perhaps the single most important rule is to never assume you can actually harm your attacker. Indeed, attempting to do so may even prove counterproductive, even if you are CERTAIN of your victory…"

* * *

As the huge tentacle shot out of Cousin Itt's hair curtain body and seized the White Hole by the weapon wrist. 

Fun fact: the English and the Blacktrinian utterance of "What the!" are both two syllables!

As more tentacles shot out of Cousin Itt's body and seized the White Hole, and before even she could react she was yanked into the air, bellowing in fury.

"That never happened on the show!" Nightwalker exclaimed. "…Was it a matter of budget?"

* * *

"These creatures can prove to be more then far stronger then how they look. Another highly annoying defiance of reality is many know how to teleport. Even if they're dead. Which means that if they're shuffling after you in plain sight, you at least know where they are. If you shoot them, they can and will just pop up somewhere else unexpectedly. In many ways, they can prove to be near invincible." 

"So if something goes after your daughter, she's dead?" Johnny Rancid said before he thought about the words leaving his mouth.

BLAM! Rancid's body joined Torque's on the floor.

Dr. Light, who had just started coming out, screamed again and returned to beneath the table. On the plus side, at least his scream didn't sound feminine.

"Unlike you. Rat bastard." Slade said.

"STOP USING MY CODENAME AS AN INSULT!" The villain known as Rat Bastard complained.

BLAM!

"Don't know when he got here, don't care." Slade said.

* * *

Nightwalker didn't know where Cousin Itt had gotten huge grabbing tentacles, but she really didn't care, as she aimed and opened fire on the hairy creation that had abruptly turned very nasty. 

But if the orbs had any affect, Nightwalker couldn't see them, as they were fired into the sheet of hair as if it was nothing MORE then a sheet of hair with nothing beneath. The creature's angry yammering still came from it, barely overheard as the White Hole bellowed overhead, trying to break free from the tentacles that held it…

Even as another emerged and swooped at Nightwalker. She cartwheeled to the left as it slammed down onto the pavement, opening fire again even as she became upright, but the orbs still had no effect, as Nightwalker cursed and began switching arms…

And then a flash of light bloomed from within the hair monster, and Nightwalker's eyes widened as she suddenly read a huge energy surge…

And then the LASER fired out of the creature, as Nightwalker frantically dove to the left again, crashing down amongst a bunch of trash cans with a pained cry.

"THAT WAS DEFINITELY NOT IN THE SHOW!" Nightwalker yelled.

* * *

"Well yeah, but who said I was playing fair?" Freddy said, and laughed on his throne before he resumed typing at his 'computer', the manifestation of all he controlled.

* * *

"Oh fornicating feces." Nightwalker said, and had to do a clumsy half-dodge half-roll through the trash cans as another laser fired, burning through the metal, garbage, and the warehouse wall beyond.

* * *

"The next rule is, clothes are your friend." Slade said, his stress barely lessened by the two murders he had just committed (why the villains didn't complain about said trigger-happy killings, who knew. Probably didn't want to be the next target). "If you lose even one article of clothing and leave any skin exposed, you will die." 

As one, all the villains looked at Blackfire.

Who was inexplicably wearing three sweaters.

"…What? It's cold tonight." She snapped.

"It's cold?" Mad Mod replied.

"YES. DO I NEED TO REPEAT MYSELF OR ARE YOU JUST STUPID ENOUGH TO GET IT NOW?" Blackfire hissed. "I found it cold and dealt with the problem. Yeah. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!"

"Forgive me if I'm wrong young lady, but I was under the impression your species could survive in hard vacuum." Mad Mod said.

"THAT'S MY STORY AND I'M STICKING TO IT!" Blackfire yelled.

"…But..." Mad Mod said, and then screamed and ducked behind the table as Slade shot at him.

"THANK YOU." Blackfire said, as Slade reloaded the shotgun.

"Ok, daddy, you've proven your point!" Rose said, as she got up and grabbed said shotgun. "Now…could we please quit while we still have some assistance left?"

Slade thought it over…and then turned and shot Brick.

"OW! ARGH! Why did you do that Wilson! I said nothing of any sort!" Brick yelled, holding his chest. However, no blood emerged, suggesting the shotgun blast had just given him a nasty bruise.

"Merely testing to see if I'd have at least one left." Slade said, and put the shotgun down, as Rose quickly took it away. "Rule 4. Don't talk about Fight Club."

"But you just mentioned the fight club!" Atlas boomed.

"Kurai I don't have a gun big enough for that."

"WHAT-!"

BOOM! Atlas collapsed with a huge smoking hole where his chest had been, courtesy of Kurai's one handed energy blast.

"Domo arrigato." Slade said.

* * *

"Shit." Nightwalker said, smacking her left gauntlet as she cowered behind some trash cans. Said left gauntlet at the moment carried her more exotic ammo, but it had also jammed when she'd had to do that unexpected roll to avoid the LASER, the fucking LASER, someone had given Cousin Itt fucking LASERS, not to mention the tentacles that were still holding White Hole overhead… 

And boy was she mad about it, as she continued to scream and bellow. But for all her anger and strength, the tendrils had her fast, perfectly holding her at her arms and legs at a perfect balance so she couldn't exert an iota of leverage and bring that strength or her claws to bear, her mace having long dropped down to the street…which was where she was heading.

Cousin Itt was lowering her down.

Because Itt's body was transforming into a giant toothed maw of a mouth.

Presumably he didn't know how badly Blacktrinians tasted.

Give White Hole credit for one thing, there wasn't a single scream of fear as she was lowered to the mouth. Just rage. Rebecca Styles didn't know HOW to scream in fear.

"Ohhhhhh dear that's not good." Nightwalker said as she peered over the trash cans…wait. Mouth. Mouth that came from hair. So wait, did the lasers come from within the hair or the mouth itself? Each one meant different angles and Nightwalker only had time to calculate one…

As she finally hit her misbehaving gauntlet at the right angle, allowing it to come back online. Great. Now she just had to make one decision.

In the end, she picked the hair. Because she didn't think it looked like a mouth laser. It wasn't much of a conclusion bit it was the only one she had time for, as she reached up and seized a trash can lid. If this didn't work…well she probably wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

"POPCORN!" Nightwalker yelled, and hurled the can lid overhead and out like a Frisbee.

As the laser shot from Cousin Itt's right side and vaporized the lid.

As Nightwalker leapt out, her left arm outstretched, as she fired two explosive marbles directly into Cousin Itt's new fanged mouth, its laser having fired on the wrong target…

As Itt exploded and was engulfed in flame, screaming, as Nightwalker rolled and came up to her feet, as the hairy creature thrashed, its burning derby hat falling at its feet as its tentacles caught fire as well…

Wait…

Nightwalker looked up.

"Oops."

As the White Hole fell on her, driving her to the ground with a bone shuddering thud.

"Ow…" Nightwalker groaned, as she shook her head…and found herself staring into the White Hole's eye, utterly consumed with rage. "Uh…at least you landed on padding?"

The White Hole pushed off her and the ground in one smooth motion, as Cousin Itt collapsed into a burning pile. Poor comical creature, warped for evil purposes. But in the end it had been it or them. Itt or them.

And poor Itt was about to get one last indignity, as the White Hole stalked towards it, scooping up her mace as she did, and with a shrieking roar, she slammed it down on the burning mass so hard Nightwalker jumped up an inch or so.

Up the mace went and down it came again. Nightwalker still felt the vibration under her feet. Up, and down. Up, and down. And all the while that ferocious scream.

"Uh…Rebecca! I'm quite sure it's dead!" Nightwalker called.

The White Hole turned her lone eye on Nightwalker with a gaze that could have cracked stone as effortlessly as her mace was.

"…But on the other hand no harm in being utterly absolutely positively certain, carry on!" Nightwalker finished.

The White Hole turned and resumed her task. Up, and down. Up, and down. In the end she'd not only beaten out the fire she'd mashed what was left of Itt right into the shattered pavement beneath him.

The While Hole stood up straight, and cracked her neck, shoulders, and back. Not her proudest moment, by any stretch…

And then she saw that Nightwalker was standing next to her. Offering her her hat, which she had lost in her struggles.

"…Thank you." The White Hole said, her voice surprisingly calm considering she'd been a shrieking banshee not a moment ago, as she took her hat and dusted it off. Was Nightwalker wrong, or had there even been a hint of…warmth?

"Where is this stockpile? My patience is now considerably less then it was a few minutes ago, and it wasn't high even then." The White Hole said, placing her hat on her head.

"Uh…" Nightwalker said, as she quickly checked. "Before this problem, we were almost there. Just a few steps away."

"It better be where he said it was." The White Hole said, as she hefted her mace against a shoulder again. "Or Slade will wish he'd suffered Hairbag here's fate."

* * *

Slade didn't really care at the moment about angry aliens. He was having enough trouble getting through these rules, oh god, the STUPIDITY of it all, he swore when he was done he was just going to carpet bomb the entirety of Hollywood for what their lesser levels have foisted on him… 

"The next rule is never split up." Slade said. "Splitting up where there are these slasher characters or other such things running around is akin to slowly stripping off your clothing, having sex, taking a shower, and mentioning the Fight Club."

"Then why did you send your daughter off immediately?" Melchior said, feeling fairly safe since Slade no longer had his shotgun and Kurai was too drained for another shot at the moment…

Until Slade yanked a knife from his belt and hurled it straight through Melchior's eyes. That was the last disruption with his weakened magical hold on the world manifested in his paper body could take, and his consciousness scattered, his body falling apart, dying in as much a sense everyone else had.

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE STUCK IN A BOOK ANYWAY, FANBAIT!" Slade yelled. "Rule six. There is no rule six! Rule seven! There will be no asking about why there is no rule six, under penalty of instant death!"

And with that Slade stole Jack's latest bottle of liquor and began drinking it straight from the bottle, and straight through his mask.

"…Slade-sama, are you feeling alright?" Kurai asked.

"I'M NOT DRUNK!" Slade yelled.

And then he abruptly collapsed.

"…Whoa. I kinda expected someone like Slade to have been able to hold his liquor better." The Handyman said.

"Daddy!" Rose said as she ran to his side.

"He is all right…" The Sorceress said: only Brick had seen the glyph appear around her hands. "I used what little power…that has so far returned to me…to briefly put him to sleep. The chaos magic was infecting him, I had to cut it off before he was too far gone. I do not know…if this will be anything more then a temporary fix though. The forces arrayed before us…there are more then mighty. They also…cheat."

* * *

"Cheat? What a BRILLIANT idea!" Freddy said, and began typing again. He'd leave the main body of his victims alone for the moment: he was going to focus on the pair of females who'd been sent to fetch weapons. And not just because of said weapon fetching, oh no. 

One had escaped their grasp before, and here she was again. And she was going to pay for it, dearly…in some truly special ways. Killing her would be simple…but bending her would be even better.

Oh yes, all around, he had something grand planned. Utterly grand.

That veiny bitch had a damn good reason to be paranoid.

* * *

"So who did you betray?" The White Hole abruptly asked. 

Nightwalker looked up from what she was doing, which was currently, with some relief, looking over the inside contents of a large metal (and high-tech for what it was) crate that was filled to the brim with guns, in this case heavy machine guns. After the little dustup with Cousin Itt, Nightwalker and White Hole had found the warehouse Slade had directed them to swiftly and with no problems. The code for the lock worked and let them in (and even if it hadn't Nightwalker strongly felt the White Hole would have just made a door anyway), and the crates were there, untouched in neat rows. Nightwalker had begun moving among the crates, checking for the ones with the serial numbers Slade had marked down beforehand, and once she had found one she punched in the code on the keypad each crate had, at which point the top opened and Nightwalker could examine the contents for what Slade had said would be in there. The White Hole hadn't done much except lift two of the crates to check their weight: despite the fact that her powers were mostly sealed, the White Hole still lifted the several ton crates effortlessly. Hell, she twirled the second on her finger for a bit just to drive home how strong she was even with most of her strength locked away. How truly fearsome she must have been, at full power and in a more pragmatic situation then this. After that she'd just stood to the side while Nightwalker checked the crate's contents and tried to puzzle out just how they were going to get all the requested weapons back to the café: the White Hole may have been strong but there were still certain considerations. Nightwalker had been thinking that over and pondering if it was possible that she could lash them all together in some way, she'd seen the materials nearby that could do that…and then the White Hole had abruptly spoken to her.

"…What?" Nightwalker said, turning to look at the alien, her helmet once again disassembled so she could use her eyes. A bad decision in a sense, as it exposed her face…a face that the White Hole could read like a book.

"Before that incident. I spoke of betrayal and your face replied that you knew of it in some firsthand way. Who did you betray?"

Nightwalker abruptly felt a touch of color come to her face, as the long-buried shame resurfaced, no matter what she did with it.

"…I'm not wholly sure if I want to speak of my own…" Nightwalker began.

"Sine, if you would propose for me to speak of my past, while you would try and cloak yours, then you will not find me to be very agreeable for anything else we attempt to do, which does not bode well for your survival in one way or another." The White Hole said in a low, dangerous tone. "You betrayed someone. Tell me who it was or suffer the consequences."

Nightwalker sighed, as she put the ammo clip she'd been checking back in the box and pressed a button to close it up.

"It's not a betrayal in the classical sense, _Et Tu Brute_ and all that…"

"Pardon?"

"Right, history you don't know. Well it's not what would be considered a betrayal…in a clear cut sense…to anyone but me, it seems." Nightwalker said, and sighed again. "I…betrayed my family."

"How? Did you leave them to a horrid death for circumstances that you coveted?"

"No!" Nightwalker snapped, somewhat surprising the White Hole with the anger in it. "No! Never!"

"You grow angry if I suggest you did anything less then care for your family, yet you betrayed them?"

"I didn't…it's not…" Nightwalker said, and then seemed to slump, the weight of regret heavy on her. "You have to know the circumstances."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"…My family…I don't know how much you've seen of the world, but this last century, especially this last 20 years, has allowed communication to increase like you wouldn't believe. Once it would take months for any type of information to reach one continent from another, now it can take seconds…but the downside of the world being at your fingertips is that the world is now also wherever you are. The whole point is, this isn't much space left, especially in North America, where you can escape from it all…but I happen to come from one of those spaces." Nightwalker said. "Some people have compared the town I grew up in to being like a group of religious people in North America, they're called the Amish, but they're not. The Amish basically belief in living apart from society: they have as little to do with the government as possible and many don't have anything to do with modern technology like electricity. My town was part of the US, we had such things as phones and televisions…but the area just seemed, by nature, to be content to stop where it was at one point and to be on its own, not letting the modern world involve itself any more. I think it may have been a reaction to the horrors of the First World War we had in the 20th century, and reinforced by the Second…but whatever the reason that made them start this, it's been like that for decades. Some would say it was backward, but others said it was peaceful, that it made more sense then a lot of the world. I mean, look at crime in big cities. How much seems pointless?"

"Technically are we not criminals?" The White Hole said, more as a musing then a point.

"I suppose some might say that, but at least we have our reasons for what we do. You wouldn't see Slade Wilson beating an old woman to death for the eight dollars she had in her purse. And say what you will about the ice in Killjoy's veins, you won't see him climbing a tower and picking off any and all targets he can find. Their choices, as bad as some would say they are…they have an order to it. A sense. And that was what it was like where I lived. In a way our town was called more…sensible. A throwback to older times that many felt were better. And believe me, I am not leaving out the dark side like a lot of people would. We had our problems, our bad apples, but we weren't a bunch of inbred hicks like a lot of people seem to assume. We were just in a…quiet place. And everyone seemed happy to be there."

"And you weren't." The White Hole said.

"I tried." Nightwalker said, as she looked at the ground. "I really did. But…as I said, it was a place where things seemed older and simpler, and one of them was the places of men and women. There had never been a feminist uprising where I was. It honestly seemed like the women who were born and raised there were content to do what women were supposed to do in those old mindsets. Work at home and raise the children. Be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, as the cliché goes. It wasn't like some have said, that maybe all the women were held in bondage with the threat of abuse…that wasn't it. The place was just…the way it was. It was Ozzy and Harriet come to life. There were no horrendous secrets lurking behind closed doors. Maybe it was an anomaly, more then a few people have said it was…but the place was happy. And I knew that. And…"

"You were still different."

"It wasn't like every girl was content to wear dresses and play with dolls. There were tomboys before. I was one. I'd much rather roughhouse with my brothers then play with dolls, I helped my dad out with his work on our farm, it seemed all right…but as I started getting into my teens I noticed that I was swiftly becoming the lone standout. For the few other girls I knew, they'd begun adapting into the mindset of the place. But I…I didn't want that. I wanted to be more. As I said, the outside world hardly intruded at all in our little slice of existence…but we knew of it. And as I started getting to that age, I started thinking that it was the outside world that was meant for me."

"And your parents didn't approve."

"No…that's the thing…they were never angry. My dad didn't strike me, my mom didn't hurt me. They just looked as me as if I was…just holding out longer then the rest of the girls, that eventually I'd come around and get ready to settle down. That I'd just stop doing the boy stuff and get to my…duty. But I didn't. I LIKED doing the boy stuff. I wanted to learn how to do stuff like they did, including stuff like learning to fight. I didn't like the idea of being helpless, but…that was the way my town worked. And…my lack of place there just kept growing. It didn't help that despite being older and bigger then me I could match my brothers and the other boys for feats of physical work, if not exceed them. I think that I may have a mild metahuman talent that allows me to go slightly beyond normal human limits…but that didn't form my mindset. I never thought I was special. I just wanted to be what I wanted to be. And my town…couldn't abide by that. It just wasn't…right."

"I agree with the assertion your town was an anomaly. You can't live in a world like that and try and see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil and expect 'evil', as it were, to just go away." The White Hole said.

"…Yes Styles. It would be easier for me if there was some kind of rejection that took place but…my family loved me. They all honestly thought I would grow up and stop acting like I was. But it wasn't LIKE I was, it was WHO I was. And eventually, as I hit my mid-teens…I started seeing the pain in my mother's eyes, the fear of just what I still was…and that was it. I couldn't stay there any more. It wasn't my place. I'd never change, and whether a forcing of the issue ever happened or just a continued despair, my family would suffer for it. But they…they just wanted the best for me. But they could not accept anything other then their idea then the best. That was just how it worked where I grew up. It was an older time, and that was all it could be…lest it all fall apart, I guess." Nightwalker said. "So I left. I packed up and set off on my own to try and make my own way in the world. All I could leave was a letter saying goodbye. I haven't been back since. I haven't tried to contact them. I don't know if I ever can. Because as much as the pain and the fear my leaving brought…I can't go back there. I don't belong and my parents and brothers will never understand that. And I can't assuage them…and be true to myself. Because they'd just want me to stay. To be what they knew. And that would be as cruel to me as any death you could offer, because it would not be me. So yes, Styles. I know of betrayal. I betrayed the happiness and future my family wanted for me. I betrayed the love they held. Because I knew they loved me, no matter what others have tried to convince me of my home to justify my choice. I know what my home was. I know what I am. And I know the twain can never meet. For that, I betrayed them…but I had no other choice."

And there was silence in the warehouse.

"…Well…I guess not all betrayals are as black and white as they can seem." The White Hole said. Nightwalker didn't reply, as she turned back to looking in the crates, trying to take her mind off her life's problems, and the forever nagging doubt that she hadn't done the right thing. You'd think life would have been quite hostile to her if she had, but it had been nothing if not generous, letting her begin to form herself into the woman she one day wanted to be. She wasn't quite there yet, but she was getting there. Nightwalker, the costume identity she now had, was just one step of the way.

The White Hole was silent, watching Nightwalker as she did her inspections.

"If it makes you feel any better, your betrayal is more justified then mine." The White Hole abruptly said.

"What? You mean those who have betrayed you?" Nightwalker asked.

"No…my own. What I did." The White Hole said. "I wasn't the first White Hole. To get the title…I betrayed my mentor. The first White Hole."

"…You did?" Nightwalker said. "…Is that part of your culture?"

"…No. In fact if one makes you a better warrior some say your life forever belongs to them…and my mentor, the first White Hole…she made me more then that…she made me everything I am and then some in so many ways…and yet I betrayed her."

"…Why?" Nightwalker asked, feeling a prickling in her spine. She didn't want the alien to start thinking she was justified in HER betrayal, depending on what it was. That may have been dangerous thinking, but it was how the young woman felt.

"I…can't quite remember." The White Hole answered.

"She made you who you were, and YOU CAN'T REMEMBER?" Nightwalker snapped before she could think it through. "Can't, or WON'T?"

The White Hole glared at Nightwalker again, and Nightwalker wondered if she had signed her death warrant…but the anger swiftly faded.

"It was over 1300 years ago." The White Hole said. It wasn't much of a justification, but Nightwalker let her have it for the moment.

"…How much have you forgotten?" Nightwalker asked, posing the question of how many bad things the alien had legitimately lost from her mind during her long life.

"Well, I obviously can't remember much when I was unconscious or…'dead'…I…can't remember ten years when I was 900…" The White Hole thought out loud. "I can remember…I hated my mentor for some reason. I think…hm…it's not talked about in 'polite' conversation."

"I can be impolite." Nightwalker said.

"As you will…………I can't have children." The White Hole said. "I'm sterile. It's not accepted in Blacktrinian society. I have never been as…accepted as her, and that fact made it more apparent I would never be her. She had a husband, a career, respect across the entire empire and beyond. And she had seven children. And no matter how much I improved she was still always able to beat me hands down…"

The White Hole suddenly snarled loudly and smashed her fist into the nearby wall. Said wall nearly collapsed, as Nightwalker recoiled, one hand on her gauntlet.

"I hated her for it." The White Hole finished.

"So you killed her." Nightwalker replied. The White Hole gave Nightwalker a bitter 'No duh' look with her lone eye.

Despite herself, Nightwalker found herself understanding. Rebecca Styles was probably destined to become something great…but what she would never be had ultimately grown so large it obliterated all other vision. It was much like the prophecy made to Macbeth in Shakespeare's famous tragedy: that he would be king. Given such a promise, Macbeth did not let the destiny come to him but instead seized it by the only way he could see, by murdering the king and hence ensuring not only his supposed destiny but his own bitter downfall. Ironically, that had all been laid out beforehand had Macbeth listened, for the witches who had given the prophecy had also prophesied that one of Macbeth's companions would be king…after Macbeth's own overthrow and death set into motion by the murder he committed.

It didn't justify it at all, but Nightwalker knew the temptations of the brass ring…and how it couldn't always hold your weight.

Nightwalker decided it might be best if there was no more talking for a bit, as she finished inspecting all the boxes and found them satisfactory. The White Hole was quiet as she did so.

Until the end.

"There is something wrong with you." The White Hole said.

Nightwalker turned to look at the alien.

"What?" Nightwalker said, and began checking her outfit: has she somehow been hurt…?

"You have not missed any injuries. However, this is something different about you that I am now certain is actually happening: it is not a trick of my perception. You seemed too busy to notice it, and due to its unusual nature I felt it would be better if you did. But you haven't, and I really must comment upon it due to its strangeness."

"What?" Nightwalker said.

"Your chest size is increasing."

"…WHAT?" Nightwalker said, looking down…

And finally noticing how her chest armor had seemed a bit tighter. Niightwalker had put it down to nervousness…except it was clear that it definitely was not nervousness.

Nightwalker abandoned the last bit of examining she was performing and tried to find a mirror. In the end she could only locate a few small ones that were clearly used for gun disassembling and cleaning, but they served the purpose as Nightwalker picked them up and set them at certain angles as she looked in them.

It was true. Her breast size was normally on the small side of B, but it had increased to the size of a C at least. Good thing her costume allowed some flexibility, or she'd have found it getting difficult to breathe.

But that didn't change the fact her breasts had gotten bigger…as the sheer strangeness of that fact hit her.

"How in the hell…?" Nightwalker said.

"You are aggravated?" The White Hole said, suddenly near Nightwalker, having once again done the silent approach. "I thought, if I remembered correctly, that larger chest size was a sign of attraction in this culture."

"Well yes it can be but…what the hell! Breasts need certain genetic setups or surgery to grow, they can't just spontaneously start enlarging like they're balloons being filled with air!" Nightwalker said. She felt along her chest, and when she felt dissatisfied with that approach she took down her upper armor and clothing to do a closer exam. The White Hole watched impassively…well at least Nightwalker thought it was impassively. I mean, why would the alien show any interest in such a thing?

But she could find no marks, scars, or anything that indicated why this was happening. And her breasts felt natural enough. They'd just…as if someone had…

"…Those FUCKERS." Nightwalker growled, as she began doing up her armor again.

"What? Who?"

"It took me a little bit to stumble across the proper thinking process…but it's tied into our situation. There's a horror 'atmosphere' pervading the place. It can affect anything: perception, decision-making, thinking processes, even reality itself. To force us into the so-called 'rules' of its existence. And by the rules, I have a fair chance at surviving…so they're fucking with my chances." Nightwalker said. "The presence of large breasts often defines a majority of a horror film character, as under-plotted and horribly acted as most are…and the character it signals is invariably a victim. This is their way of marking me with a bullseye, Rebecca. I'm the only one of you who went through this before. And they clearly don't want history repeating itself."

The female vigilante finished doing up the top of her outfit again and half-stomped back to the boxes.

"So…they're marking you by…giving you a bigger chest?"

"It may disrupt my balance some Rebecca, but it's mostly metaphor. But it's not going to work." Nightwalker said, as she closed up the last box. "We're ready to move out Rebecca. First, please help me move these out the door. I can't move them myself."

"You just get the door." The White Hole said as she hefted the nearest box up. "I'll handle the rest."

* * *

"Oh figured it out did you you little bitch?" Freddy said from where he watched on the computer. "This is why women should be seen and not heard…well unless you're popping something, be it a heart or a cherry. Heh heh hah!" Freddy laughed. "Don't think just because you know what I'm doing that you can properly resist it! Now…how's the bar doing…"

* * *

"This problem is considerably worse then even I had surmised." Slade said, considerably calmer as he sat at his table, his mask off, as he sipped some herbal tea Kurai had made for him. "I had spoken of the way the chaos magic could manipulate things…and it can be immensely subtle in doing so. It was even influencing my train of thought when I believed I was successfully actively resisting it. That, I believe, will be the greatest problem facing us. Not so much what the foes can do out there…but in here." Slade said. "So everyone be on the alert, and pay attention to any strange thoughts, urges, and whatnot. I don't really wish to lessen our numbers any more, but I also have no desire to take chances." Slade said. He sipped his tea. "Sorceress, how goes the power leakage you spoke of?" 

"…Hard for me to say with any accuracy." The Sorceress said where she sat. "I still feel like a faint shadow of my former self. But considering the evidence I have seen…perhaps our general abilities have been increased back to the 25-30 percent range. Not much, but better then we were when we started, and encountered the trouble with that doll. However, the level of leakage is impossible to judge. It may not even continue." Sorceress said. She did not mention that the 25-30 percent range did not apply to her, as she'd been right next to the orb. She was probably at 10 percent power, at most.

"So those bitches you sent out better get back with the guns soon, Slade." Jack commented.

"If they're even still alive." Dr. Light added.

"Those two are not so easily killed, Arthur. Most likely because they do not seek the cover of furniture at every sudden new event." Slade commented.

"Hey! I've never had the best nerves! Get off my back!" Dr. Light said. "I'm just about used to this. No more terror for me!"

"Is that a bee?" The Handyman said innocently.

Dr. Light screamed and hid under his table. Slade sighed.

"No, wait, just a dust mite catching the light a certain way. Sorry." The Handyman said.

"…I'm allergic!" Dr. Light said from beneath the table. Slade sighed again, while the Handyman looked amused.

"Hey Doctor Light…bee."

"EEP!"

"Heh heh heh…"

"NOT FUNNY!"

"Sorry man, sorry. Hey, is that a…bee?"

"ARRRGGHHHH!"

"Stop teasing the coward." Slade said.

"I'm sorry, I'm just used to being the group coward. It's nice to know I'm not quiet yet the bottom of the barrel."

"HEY!"

"Bee."

"IYEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Slade began to wonder if he should spike his tea with more of Jack's alcohol. Kurai, meanwhile, was wondering along another topic: what had happened between him and Rose.

_Was that rape?_

_No, how could it be?_

_It's rape if you get a reluctant woman drunk. Wouldn't it be the same thing if she were magically lobotomized?_

_But didn't she initiate it?_

**Yes, but still. She was not of right mind or right body.**

_Rationality? Did you actually get out?_

**Yes.**

"Is there a point to this?" Kurai said, very quietly, to himself.

**Yes. It is most likely Slade will find out, and when he does, get ready to talk him into letting you slit your belly instead of having your head blasted off. Might as well go with SOME honor.**

"SHUT UP BRAIN!" Kurai yelled.

Out loud, he realized, as every villain turned to stare at him.

"Uh…" Kurai said, as he sweatdropped. "Cultural quirk?"

"I'm glad I don't have to worry about thinking any more. Tee hee!" Rose said. Adonis gave her an odd look, thought thankfully Slade didn't hear her. He'd been turning a thought over in his head.

"If the two women do not return soon, it may be best if we leave this place and head straight for the weapons dropoff. Then again…if they don't return…it may indicate that it would be best we don't leave either. Because there is no certain idea where we could end up."

* * *

"Okay…" Nightwalker said, looking at the seven large metal crates stacked next to each other on the street outside the stockpile warehouse. "We have enough chain but…maybe if we can find a truck, even a small one, we can stack them all and chain them together, drive slowly, hope we don't blow out the axle…" 

"No. No more delays." The White Hole said. "If what you theorized on your chest size is true, then we are being targeted, and the longer we delay, the better their advantage may be. Chain the boxes as tightly as you can in a horizontal line to link them all together. Then leave the rest to me."

"Are you sure…"

"HURRY!" The White Hole snapped, and Nightwalker shrugged and ran over, as she and the alien, along with Nightwalker's blowtorch attachment for her gauntlet, managed to chain all the boxes together in about ten minutes.

"Now bring the rest here down to my end." The White Hole ordered. Nightwalker dragged the chains over, and under the alien's instructions fashioned a crude harness for the alien that was forged to the chained-together boxes.

"You're going to drag it?" Nightwalker asked, as the White Hole finished adjusting her harness and took her hat off, putting it in some pocket.

"Could damage the contents, not to mention make an infernal racket. Better way. Back up some Sine." The White Hole said, as she reached behind her, sank her claws into the metal box, and then with a snarling grunt of effort actually lifted the boxes up, Nightwalker's eyes going wide as the chains grew taunt, surely the way they were arranged would cause it to snap…as the White Hole grunted and lifted, the weight of the boxes compounded by the immensely awkward design and angle…but she made it, as the boxes were lifted vertical and shifted to rest on the White Hole's shoulders and neck, held together by the chains as they stretched up into the air for a few dozen feet.

"Not the most straightforward lug job, but well enough under the circumstances. Let us move swiftly Sine." The White Hole said, and started forward, the boxes shifting but staying upright as the alien carried them, as Nightwalker quickly followed. The White Hole, despite still holding her mace in her hands as she walked on with her giant 'backpack', was quite vulnerable in this state: if they were attacked, Nightwalker would have to hold the line while she properly adjusted herself.

"You remember the way back don't you? I do not, as much as I would like to anyway." The White Hole said under her load.

"Uh…yeah don't worry. Turn left." Nightwalker said, as the two began returning to the bar.

And still that unnatural silence, even the noises of the shifting boxes seeming muted by it.

"…Do you regret it?" Nightwalker asked the alien.

"What?"

"Your…mentor. What happened…do you regret it?"

"…I don't know." The White Hole said between breaths. "As much as anyone she was like a mother to me, but I was young, arrogant…a monster. It's only in the last few years that I've started to think about it all…and even then I really wonder why. I can't go back in time and change my decision. It will always be what it was."

"Yes…that's true." Nightwalker said. "But there is a reason for thought, especially of the past. One should…learn to understand the wrongs one did…or they will…"

And then…the fog blew across before the two again, and they stopped dead.

"Looks like they haven't finished with us yet." The White Hole said, as she frantically tried to adjust her position, leaning back to set the boxes down and disentangle herself from them, as Nightwalker did a quick check on her gauntlet ammo and began engaging her helmet…

As the smoke abruptly blew away.

And the White Hole, having almost fully untangled herself, froze. So did Nightwalker.

But not in shock or fear. Because once again…they had not properly expected.

But really…who could have expected a white puppy with black ears, a big red nose, a few gray spots on his back…and only one leg?

"…Da FUCK?" Nightwalker said, even as the White Hole fully untangled herself. At least Cousin Itt had been a monster in some ways. What the hell was…

_Lil' Brudder…_

Nightwalker's eyes widened as within her head a song started playing, even as the one-legged puppy tried to push its way towards the two, not so much to attack as if…it was just trying to keep moving forward, the very picture of pathetic.

_He can make it on his own!_

Nightwalker glanced at the White Hole, who also didn't have a clue…but that was swiftly being replaced by the cold rage Nightwalker had seen in the alien before. The anger spawned from the idea of not being taken seriously, or something to that extent.

_He'll scrape right along, while I'm singing this song! You know he was born to ramble and roam!_

"…This is what they send before me? Continual absurdist comedy?" The White Hole hissed. "Do they believe as much a joke as them?"

"Careful Rebecca. Don't forget last time…" Nightwalker said.

"This cannot lead to any kind of a threat! I am purposely being insulted, and I will not stand for it!" The White Hole snapped.

"I can make it on my own!" Lil' Brudder said in a mournful tone, its face the picture of melancholy.

"…I'm beginning to think a wire or two may have been crossed somewhere." Nightwalker said.

* * *

Freddy stared at the screen, and then snapped his head around to look at his lieutenants, who stood by impassively…but Freddy wasn't taking that at face value, oh no. 

"Shut up!" Freddy snapped, as he waved his clawed hand. "You think it's easy to type with this thing? Piss off!" Freddy snapped, as he turned back to his computer. "Ok may have lost the entrance, but I'll kill 'em on the twist…!"

* * *

"Enough. I'm going to just crush this mockery…" The White Hole said, as Freddy backspaced the typo BRUDDER he had made on his computer, and typed in the proper word. 

As Lil' Brudder, the one legged pup from Homestar Runner, disappeared…swiftly morphing into something else.

Someone else.

The White Hole stared, as the puppy was whisked away…and replaced by another figure.

…And it seemed like again she had been dismissed, for this was no blade-wielding psychopath. Indeed, it was just a small male child, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, golden inline skates, a baseball hat covering most of his features in shadow…

…and carrying a small bent golden baseball bat.

The White Hole could almost TASTE the fear that suddenly crashed through Nightwalker, it was so sudden and so strong, as she recognized what, who, she was looking at…and knew how very very bad it was, as the White Hole turned to look at her, seeing the blood drain out of the young woman's face.

"Oh my holy…shit." Nightwalker whispered. "Lil' Slugger."

"Who?" The White Hole said.

"Kid from…anime…he…it's…!" Nightwalker babbled. "…Run! For god sake's run!" Nightwalker said as she started backing up.

"Run? Now I _am_ intrigued." The White Hole said as she turned her face back towards the small child, Lil' Slugger as Nightwalker had called him…as Nightwalker's arm suddenly grabbed the alien by the shoulder.

"No! Rebecca, this isn't something we can-ARGGGGHHHH!" Nightwalker screamed as the White Hole calmly seized Nightwalker's arm in a grip that would only require a few more iotas of pressure to crush the bone into powder, as she turned and looked at the female in cold rage.

"Remove your hand from me, or I swear I shall remove it instead." The White Hole said as she shoved Nightwalker off of her. "Perhaps this boy terrifies you, but I am not you."

"Styles! Rebecca! You don't understand!" Nightwalker yelled. "It's not a boy! It's…!"

The White Hole was not listening, as she began walking forward at a slightly above normal speed pace, her eyes alert for any tricks like that hair alien had done, her mace at hand. This was a step up from that one-legged dog that had somehow projected an asinine theme song into her head or something, but not much. Then again, Nightwalker seemed to recognize from whatever aspect of fiction this Lil' Slugger spawned from, and if it terrified her (she didn't seem to scare easy) then it surely had some worth as a foe.

But not much, the White Hole was certain, as she closed in.

And Nightwalker took a few more steps back, her fear churning through her as she contemplated what the bare essence of what Lil' Slugger was could do unleashed on her as a foe…and then she turned and ran.

But she didn't run far.

As the White Hole bellowed, charging in the last few steps, as she swung her mace.

The boy only turned his head slightly, perhaps to look at her, it was hard to tell with the way his baseball cap shadowed his face…as the mace slammed full-force into his cheek.

His head snapped violently to the side, as the White Hole grinned fiercely…a grin that swiftly faded.

Something was wrong. That had been a very good hit. But the White Hole had delivered so many good hits over the course of her very long life that she had it down to a science…and this one didn't feel right.

For one, even though the boy's head was reacting to the impact…it barely seemed to be doing so. There was no bloodspray, no sound or feeling of broken bones, no flying teeth, nothing to indicate the hit.

And the impact…felt wrong. It didn't feel like the White Hole had hit something made of flesh and blood. And it didn't feel like she'd hit a robot either, or a creature made of a more unusual material like mud or stone. It didn't feel like she'd hit a wall either. In fact it felt like she'd hit…what…

_…buffer…?_

The White Hole decided there was no point in pursuing this line of thought. So the target didn't feel right? Fine, she'd hit it until it did, as she swung her mace back up and slammed it down on top of the boy's baseball cap.

He staggered under the shot…but the impact felt the same…

The White Hole hit him full in the gut. He doubled over on the weapon…

…_but still no sense of damage…_

What WAS this thing? Nightwalker had seemed so scared, why exactly, and where was she, the White Hole couldn't see her in her peripheral vision. Had she been overwhelmed by her fear and fled like a coward?

For a moment, a slight feeling of disappointment flowed through the White Hole. It had been a very long time she'd found anything to like in any living thing, and just when she thought she'd started to like the young woman she'd failed so badly. If she saw her again, she may just have to kill her out of disgust, as she swung back her mace and slammed it down…

On the ground, as Lil' Slugger, in a movement so small it was barely visible, skated to the side. The mace slammed into the street.

As Lil' Slugger, almost gently, cocked back his arm, and as the White Hole turned her head to face him again he swung out with his bat.

The White Hole was not fragile like a human. She wasn't the elite among the warrior species of the Blacktrinians for nothing, and she hadn't lived (in a sense) so long either without knowing how to absorb punishment. And she could do more then absorb it: she was fully capable of shrugging it off. She'd been struck, slashed, impaled, shot, burned, frozen, and been caught in the explosion of more weapons then most people could believe existed, and she'd either survived or walked away. Hell, during the Altagar rebellion the rebelling Altagars had known she would come and had created a large, breach loading beam cannon roughly the size of a town. They'd seen her, they'd sighted her, and they'd hit her.

She not only survived but returned to shred the rebellion a month later. Virtually any other Blacktrinian (including Nigel Hastings of the Teen Titans) would have been smeared across the landscape.

Even with reduced powers, she was hardcore to the bone.

Which simply made the blow, as the bat slammed into her head, all the worse. It felt like a human would if they were struck by a wrecking ball, as the White Hole flew through the air like she'd been blasted out of a gun, as she crashed into the wall of the nearest building, barely avoiding going through it, before she fell down into the trash cans below with a resounding racket.

She did not move, as a thin trickle of blood began to leak from her forehead.

"Oh no…" Nightwalker said, as she saw it all play out. She'd known the alien wouldn't listen to her, wouldn't understand how dangerous Lil' Slugger was…and she couldn't dwell on it, as she turned her eyes back to her task.

Slade's weapons' crates were nearly as high tech as their contents, as each and any side could be opened via a punchcode. Nightwalker had run to one, and as the White Hole had made her futile effort against Lil' Slugger she had opened one on their side and begun digging in, frantically grabbing weapons and ammo, trying to calm her shaking hands as she picked guns as best she could with her limited knowledge…

And then the White Hole was struck down.

And the fear set in again, because deep down Nightwalker had hoped that maybe White Hole's alien nature would save her…but it hadn't.

And with her down, there was only one target left…

As Nightwalker looked up again, as Lil' Slugger stopped his slow glide toward her.

Nightwalker stared at the boy…except he wasn't a boy. What exactly he was…was very hard to explain. He came from a thirteen episode Japanese anime called _Paranoia Agent_, which Gizmo had owned and played in the common room a few times. She'd watched the whole series the whole time through three times, and even then it was hard to define just what Lil' Slugger was, as the anime was heavy on metaphors and subtleties. In the simplest terms…he was a boy (except not) who sought out those who had 'no place to turn'…and then he struck them down with his bat. And if he didn't want them to, they didn't get up.

And you could not stop him, nor could you escape him.

And despite the shadows on his face, Lil' Slugger grinned at her, turning up one corner of his mouth, a smile filled with sickening mirth.

Nightwalker tried to force the fear down, tried to stop overthinking the whole situation. Because all of Lil' Slugger's victims in his anime had been worn down, scared, and misunderstanding people, ordinary people. Not trained warriors, not people who had the outsider's perspective of what Lil' Slugger was…and not anyone who was just going to roll over and let this thing strike the life from her body, as Nightwalker got to her feet, her hands blurring in a few last quick movements as she armed the guns she held: a Heckler & Koch HK53 carbine submachine gun in her right hand, and an M9 pistol in her left hand.

"Back off!" Nightwalker warned.

Lil' Slugger did not respond, but he did not move…and he did not stop grinning.

"I SAID BACK OFF!" Nightwalker yelled as she yanked out the retractable stock of the HK53, locked it against her shoulder, and opened fire.

Even as she realized just what she was doing: firing a fully automatic weapon single-handed. What was she expecting to accomplish? Weapons weren't like toys, they didn't just sit still when you fired them. The only way she could fire a weapon like this one handed and actually hit her target would be if…she was in a movie, she realized.

Reality was allowing certain anomalies.

Good thing she hadn't figured this out a few seconds before and tried to fire both weapons at once. That would have just been stupid.

And so she emptied her submachine gun clip into Lil' Slugger…

Only to find to her horror, the bullets weren't doing a damn thing. They weren't going through him, they weren't bouncing off him, they weren't disappearing near him. They were BREAKING on him,

And so the small child stood there, the bullets shattering on his minute frame, even as the submachine gun ran dry and Nightwalker threw it down to open fire with her handgun, the echo of the repeated booms following the loud chatter of the automatic weapon, as Nightwalker also emptied the handgun into Lil' Slugger.

With the exact same result.

The gun clicked dry, even as the last of the bullets broke on the entity, falling in tiny pieces at his feet.

The guns dropped from Nightwalker's hands in numb shock.

_Doomed…_

And then, Nightwalker recalled just what she had been speaking of earlier, of the sacrifice she had made to pursue her choice of life…and it damn sure wasn't ending this prematurely!

…_LIKE HELL!_

Nightwalker dove back down to the box, seized up another submachine gun, this time an Ingram MAC-10, as she seized a clip at the same time, slammed it in, and thrust it up at Lil' Slugger as she again opened fire.

And the bullets continued to shatter on him, as his grin finally faded a bit…

As he came for Nightwalker, his golden rollerblades sounding off as he headed for her, his bat at hand, as Nightwalker stood there emptying the last of the clip, as Lil' Slugger closed in and swung his bat…

Into the side of the crate, as Nightwalker leapt up onto the top of the crate and rolled over it in one smooth motion, her empty gun clattering by Lil' Slugger's feet as she vanished over the edge of the other side.

Lil' Slugger didn't seem too perturbed, as he glanced at where she had gone, and then slowly began to rollerblade down the short length of the boxes, almost taking his time. He came to the end, carefully circled around one corner, and then slowly circled around the other.

Nightwalker stood there.

As she hefted her new M16A4 machine gun as she finished loading a grenade into the M203A2 grenade launcher attachment, snapping that part shut as she lifted it and locked it against her shoulder.

"Hello." Nightwalker said, and fired. The grenade streaked out and slammed into Lil' Slugger, and he was consumed by the explosion.

"I said it for you since you wouldn't." Nightwalker said, as she quickly leaned down, seized two more projectile grenades, and began jogging backwards. Watching…waiting…

As Lil' Slugger rolled out, not a single mark on him, as he came for Nightwalker.

Nightwalker planted her feet and opened fire, feeling the sheer feedback of the giant rifle flow into her body as it belched more bullets…but they proved as ineffective as their brothers, as the projectiles slammed into Lil' Slugger and just broke without affecting him at the least. Fresh fear exploding in her body, Nightwalker ran backwards as she fumbled for a second grenade, found it, locked it in, and fired. Another explosion blasted Lil' Slugger, but a second later he rolled out of it like it was a light breeze. Nightwalker fired a few more shots and then broke and ran, fleeing from the monstrous child as he gave pursuit…

And began catching up, as Nightwalker looked behind her, gasped, and increased the pace, but it meant nothing, he was still coming, he'd chase her until he caught her unless she…tripped.

And so she did, sprawling on the ground, the machine gun jamming painfully underneath her, even as an errant thought bounced around her brain…

_The running females always trip and fall stupid…_

As Nightwalker rolled over.

Lil' Slugger hovered over her.

Just for a moment…she could see his face…not the most pleasant features but still so horrifyingly…normal…

She snapped up her gauntlet and fired, but the orbs broke as easily as the bullets, as Lil' Slugger swung the bat up…

And a clawed hand seized him.

"Pardon me."

And the White Hole lifted Lil' Slugger up, took a few steps, and then slammed into the ground so hard the whole street shook.

"…Rebecca." Nightwalker said in amazement.

"Hell yeah. Takes more then THAT to take me down." The White Hole replied…unable to admit that her head still hurt something fierce…

While her own blow had done nothing at all, as Lil' Slugger rose back up, not a mark of dirt on his clothes, not a speck of damage to his hat. Completely unharmed.

"…Run…we have to run…" Nightwalker gasped as she tried to get up.

"No. Not while I still have this…and ME!" The White Hole yelled, as she seized her mace with both hands, charging at Lil' Slugger as she swung her weapon back…

The boy just smirked again.

And forward, slamming Lil' Slugger with a gigantic home run swing that had every bit of strength she could muster behind it. The street cracked beneath her from the impact, as Lil' Slugger literally flew, flying backwards as if _he_ was a ball hit with a bat…

Unfortunately, the building behind him was several stories tall, and Lil' Slugger slammed into it.

The wall didn't even crack.

And as White Hole watched, the entity actually slid down the wall, as if he was floating, until he was back down on the ground.

His face in shadow couldn't hide the fact he was looking at the White Hole…and then, without making a sound, his shoulders began to shake, as if he was crying…or laughing. But even without any noise, it was clear just what it was. He'd taken White Hole's best shot and hadn't felt a damn thing.

"…Now is running a good idea?" Nightwalker said as she came to the White Hole's side.

"…Regretfully." The White Hole said, and whirled around with Nightwalker as the two took off down the street.

As Lil' Slugger came after them, rollerblades whirling as he rolled down the street, immediately beginning to catch up with the fleeing women…

As Nightwalker, the M16 now strapped around her chest, pulled one last surprise she had grabbed while White Hole tried her final attack: a bandolier of grenades, of the more traditional variety, as she and the White Hole ran past the fallen boxes…

"What's that going to do after my own blow did nothing?" The White Hole snapped.

"Who knows? Maybe you softened him up!" Nightwalker retorted.

And yanked on a string that pulled every single grenade pin out at once.

As Lil' Slugger shot past the boxes, gaining on the two, Nightwalker twisted around and hurled the bandolier behind her, and then turned and put a new burst of speed into her step…

The explosion nearly knocked her flat on her face again, and she did not see how much Lil' Slugger was caught in it, but that didn't matter, she had to MOVE, as she and the White Hole took a left around the corner…

As Lil' Slugger bladed through the smoke of the explosion, barely slowed down at all.

"FUUUUUUUUCK!" Nightwalker cursed, as she snapped her head back forward…and saw that in front of her, at the end of a street, was a considerably taller building then the rest in the area, at least twelve stories.

Nightwalker had an idea.

"Rebecca! You'll need to grab onto me!" Nightwalker yelled, as she reached down to her belt and snapped off an attachment that she slapped onto her gauntlet. "We're going to try for the roof…!"

"You mean to carry me up? I think not! Just go yourself, I'll be right behind you!" The White Hole replied. Nightwalker stared for a very brief moment, and then turned and aimed her arm: she had no time to argue.

As she fired her grappling hook, as it shot up towards the building top…

As Lil' Slugger slid around the corner, hot on their heels…

And made it, finding a strong sticking point and locking in. Nightwalker hit the button on her gauntlet and leapt at the same time, and it retracted, carrying her up at great speed.

As the White Hole attached her mace to her belt in mid-run, tensed up her muscles, sucked in a deep breath, and then leapt, a small leapt forward, then another bigger leap that went further up, and as she struck the street she went into a deep knee bend and then launched herself skyward after Nightwalker, who had rapidly reached the roof.

The White Hole proved too heavy to make it all the way though, but she'd planned just for that, as she came to the side of the building and bit into it with her clawed hands and feet, and then before her grip points could weaken under her weight she clenched her arms and then rocketed up the side as she yanked herself upward as hard as she could, flying up past the roof edge…

But the problem with such a move was that all the momentum was up, not out, as the White Hole tried to lean forward to land on the edge of the roof…

And just made it.

By her tip-toes.

The White Hole found her balance suddenly and immensely precarious, as her arms pinwheeled, trying to keep from falling…

As Nightwalker grabbed her and yanked her onto the roof.

"Whew. You are heavy." The vigilante commented, as the White Hole exhaled her breath and turned around.

Lil' Slugger was still coming.

"What's he going to do, take the elevator-" The White Hole began.

As Lil' Slugger reached the building, heading directly for the wall…and then as if gravity didn't exist, he was suddenly ROLLERBLADING STRAIGHT UP THE WALL.

"OH COME ON!" Nightwalker cursed, as she looked around, trying to find a door down into the building…

"Wait." The White Hole said, grabbing her arm. "I have an idea. Hold on."

"Hold o-?"

And the White Hole grabbed Nightwalker, carrying her as easily as if she was a baby, and charged across the roof. Despite the bouncing aspect her vision had suddenly taken on, Nightwalker quickly realized what the White Hole was doing: aiming for a building of similar height in the distance.

A rather considerable distance, as Nightwalker paled.

"White Hole are you sure you want t-GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Nightwalker yelled as the White Hole reached the edge of the roof and leapt off as hard as she could, as she Matrix-jumped across the blocks between the two buildings…

And made it, crashing down with a violent thud that sent a spider-web of cracks shooting through the roof.

Almost nonchalantly, the White Hole put Nightwalker down.

"Maybe that will actually dissuade the accursed creation a bit." The White Hole said as she turned around to look at the roof they'd just left.

"Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly." Nightwalker said as she unslung her machine gun, slammed in a new clip of ammo, and loaded her last grenade.

As Lil' Slugger arrived at the roof of the building they'd left…and without a second to pause rollerbladed straight in their direction.

"You better not…" Nightwalker said.

And leapt off into the air, heading straight for the pair of women.

"Oh FUCK YOU!" Nightwalker snapped, as her helmet reassembled on her head to solidify her aim, as she snapped the machine gun up and opened fire.

She may as well have been shooting the air, as the bullets had the same effect, not even interrupting Lil' Slugger's airborne momentum, as he flew towards the roof, almost like he was rollerblading on the very ether itself.

The ammo ran out. Nightwalker spat out another low, unintelligible curse, aimed the grenade launcher, and fired.

The projectile caught the 'boy' perfectly, blowing him up in mid-air in a spectacular firework…that he flew right through, like nothing had happened, as he began coming down on the roof.

"Sine get behind me!" The White Hole said as she grabbed Nightwalker with one arm and literally threw her backwards with a yelp, as she yanked out her mace, and as Nightwalker rolled back up to her feet she thought that the White Hole might be trying to whack Lil' Slugger out of the air…

Not quite, as the entity touched down on the roof…as the White Hole took a few giant steps backwards and slammed her mace down on the roof.

With an immensely loud cracking noise, the whole side of the roof shattered, and as the White Hole leapt backwards dust and smoke exploded upward as the whole section broke off the building and plummeted to the ground, landing with a low dull roaring crash.

"His defiance of gravity seemed limited in some sense." The White Hole said to Nightwalker.

As Lil' Slugger leapt out of the smoke and landed, coming to a stop.

The two females stared in horror at him. They were right. There was no escape.

"…ARRGGGGGHHHH JUST DIEEEEEEEEEEE!" The White Hole screamed as she charged at Lil' Slugger again.

"Rebecca wait…!"

The White Hole slashed out with her mace…as Lil' Slugger almost casually ducked under it…and swung his bat out, smashing it into the White Hole's face and sending her flying backwards as she bounced across the roof, almost falling off the edge.

Nightwalker gasped, as her head snapped to follow White Hole, and then snapped back to Lil' Slugger.

As his shoulders shook again. Mocking them without a sound.

Nightwalker snapped up her right arm and emptied the remaining gauntlet ammo she had into Lil' Slugger. It shattered into dust as it struck him, as he began rollerblading towards her.

Nightwalker ran backwards as she brought up the other arm and began firing her last ammo, her specialty ammo…all without affect. A glue orb splattered and then slid off him like he was made of pure water. Immensely powerful acid drenched him and didn't scorch an atom. Finally fire exploded on him…as he skated through it, the flames dying immediately…

As Nightwalker ran out of room to back up, as her gauntlet clicked dry.

Out of ammo, out of places to run. Out of time.

Lil' Slugger grinned one last time, as the White Hole looked at the entity in a daze, as Nightwalker's arm dropped in numb horror, as he skated at Nightwalker, raising his bat…

Poof.

"Lil' Brudder…" Sang an invisible voice, as a small one-legged white puppy appeared on the roof before Nightwalker.

"…DA PHUCK?"

* * *

"ARGH!" Freddy yelled as he reared back. "What the hell!" 

"You seem to have leaned on the computer keys and reverted your avatar back to its originally erroneous form." One of his lieutenants offered 'helpfully'.

"ARGH! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK DID I PRESS!" Freddy yelled as he furiously typed. "The hell! Backspace! Frontspace! Undo! Redo! Turn back! No! You…!"

* * *

Nightwalker could only stare, unable to understand how Freddy had accidentally turned the unstoppable creation that has chased them so doggedly…into a one legged dog that couldn't chase a snail. 

"I can make it on my owwwwwwwn!" Lil' Brudder declared.

As the White Hole got up…

("OH NO!" Freddy roared.)

And with a roar of her own, ran and lashed out with a foot, and Lil' Brudder was kicked into the air and sent soaring off into the sky.

"Things are lookin' uppppppppppppppppppppp…" He said, and then vanished with a twinkle off in the far distance.

* * *

"…Fuck." Freddy cursed. "Those stupid Japs can't design a computer OR a horror character! I should have used that damn _Grudge_ kid!" Freddy snarled. "…On the other hand, that brat had no style at all. Forget what's hot now, I'm done playing with it. Time to return to the classics." Freddy said, already forgetting his anger as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. "Time to give it up to the originals…well, all the ones ripped off me of course."

* * *

"…Do you have any idea what just happened?" Nightwalker said, as she snapped more ammo into her gauntlets, keeping her helmet up so she could use the scanners to make sure nothing was coming back or nothing new was trying to sneak up on them. 

"No, and I don't care." The White Hole said, as she dusted herself off. "But now maybe that fucking thing will take me seriously."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Nightwalker asked.

"Have you learned nothing about me Sine?" The White Hole said, as she looked at the human girl and grinned wickedly herself.

"…As you will, White Hole. As you will."

"By the way, I hate to keep bringing this up, but I think your breasts have increased even more."

Stunned, Nightwalker looked down.

"…Oh this is just too fucking much." Nightwalker said. "I did not start this life to be Lara Croft."

"Who?"

"Never mind! Let's try and find the gun boxes, close them up, and get them back to Slade and the others before they sic, I don't know, the My Pet Monster on us or something…"

"Your species had pet monsters?"

"No! Forget it."

"I must say Nightwalker, nice jiggle motion you have going there now."

Nightwalker whacked the White Hole on the shoulder.

Perhaps it spoke to what had happened that had she done that when they had started out, the White Hole would have ripped her head off.

Needless to say, when the pair finally got back to the Villain's Café, dragging the weapon boxes, Nightwalker still had her head.

* * *

"Man, this blows!" The Sugarman said. "After all that build in Part 2, I just get forgotten! I didn't even appear in Part 3 at all!" 

"Technically, this IS Part 3. So by complaining here, you've destroyed your complaint, numbnuts." Freddy said through the mental link he had with the creation.

"Dude, totally not sweet."

"Oh SHUT UP!" Freddy snapped, and cut the contact, leaving the Sugarman wherever he was. Why had he just summoned him?

Well, it didn't matter.

"So you think you've gotten somewhere." Freddy said. "Well people, I've had enough of this obscure and newfangled shit! Now, I'm kickin' it old school!"

And Freddy turned to look upon his army, at all the slashers, all of them stretching out before him, as far as he could see.

"Class is in session. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

* * *

**_Next Time, In Boogeymen III!_**

_"Welcome back to the Weakest Link! Kurai, are you in a cage?"_

"…_No…"_

"_MORON ON THE LOOSE! MORON ON THE LOOSE!"_

_BLAM!_

"_Though if you meant a closet, smoldering pile of ash that was once an annoying British woman, only on weekends, government holidays, and the holy month of Ramadan."_

"_What? Why Ramadan?" Dr. Light said._

"_I figure if I'm not allowed to eat for a month, then he isn't either." Slade said._

"…_What a twist!" Nightwalker said._

**8888** _  
_

"_What do you mean the Lord was a stripper on the side?"_

**8888**_  
_

_And then Slade walked into a bar._

"_This joke is not funny in the least."_

**8888**_  
_

"_Rather nice Earl Grey, eh Killjoy?"_

"…"

**8888**

"_Take that!" Sugarman yelled as he stabbed Control Freak. "…Hey! I stabbed you! Why aren't you falling over?"_

"_You haven't rolled damage yet."_

"_WHAT? Ok, fine…ONE? DAMMIT!"_

"_Hurrah! I have fifty HP left! And initiative!"_

"_I STABBED YOU RIGHT IN THE THROAT YOU LITTLE BITCH!"_

"_Thank Cthulu fifth edition is so buggy."_


	4. Catering By Sue

_Part 4: Catering By Sue_

_**Oh I bet you think you're clever, cutting me off like that last chapter. Screw you! People want to think I'm a ripoff of the Shade with far less cultured class who loves to blabber on and on, fine, I'll damn sure fulfill their expectations! Now, let us begin this mass slaughter with the tales of other mass slaughters. Which one to pick? I'm quite partial to the Black Dea**_

* * *

They couldn't all be winners like him, Freddy knew, but even he didn't know just how many losers there were out there. Look at them all! In their half-baked costumes (those that wore costumes), all armed with knives (ok they were really armed with a lot of different weapons, but dammit too many knives), which probably took up 8/10th of the budget of whatever films they 'starred' in. And to think he could be considered part of this group! Freddy would shudder if such a thing were in him. 

No, he wasn't like them. He was immortal! He was part of history! He had the golden touch! Hell, he'd yanked Johnny Depp into a bed over twenty years ago, and now Depp was raking in billions with that pirate character he had created, Captain Bird or something. He should personally thank Freddy for such a gift!

But as big a bunch of losers (in his own mind anyway) as they were, they had their uses, as Freddy cleared his voice and, his red and black sweater and fedora replaced with a general outfit's and helmet, he stepped up on his elevated platform, his 'master control computer' briefly pushed to the side as he addressed the crowd, his robed lieutenants around him.

"Attention hideous attempts at horror of the past, post-modern, and post-post modern era! As a whole, you are AWFUL. A waste of millions of dollars, both in terms of investment and the few idiots who actually saw you. Since most of you BOMBED. And BOMBED BADLY. And that's just counting the ones who actually made it into theaters: there's not point in mocking you straight to video losers!"

"Actually since our budgets were so small at least a few of us made back their money…" A random slasher said.

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE ALL LOSERS!"

"Why are you in charge? Didn't you lose last time?" Another random slasher asked.

"So did Patton, and he did a great job taking out the Japs! Now shut up!" Freddy snapped. "While all of you have managed a body count, you must remember this is not the usual crop of brain-dead teenagers! Though some have been infected with various attributes many of you will find familiar, the highly unusual nature of this group of dipshits has required that all of you go on the attack! To ensure victory!"

"Don't you have a slasher there already? Hasn't be accomplished nothing?"

"Yes! The Sugarman!"

"Why did we send Sugarman first? Nobody's even heard of him before!"

"NOBODY'S HEARD OF MOST OF YOU EITHER!"

"Then why did he get to go first?"

"He was expendable. NOW SHUT IT FOR REAL!" Freddy yelled. "Your usual talents will be in place, and your sheer numbers will carry the day!"

"Are you going with us?"

"NO! You losers want to be losers forever?"

"What about the ones in robes up with you?"

"Those are my lieutenants. They do not need to associate with you!"

"What's so special about THEM?"

"I picked the ones among you I wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen in public with!"

"We don't go out in public! That's why we're called slashers instead of serial killers!"

"Yeah!" Said another generic slasher (most were so obscure Freddy didn't have names for them, just descriptions, like 'Wolf Head' or 'White Face'. In this case the speaker had one of the worst slasher getup disguises Freddy had ever seen, consisting of a clown mask and a blue jumpsuit. And they wondered why he called them losers. Compared to Clown Jumpsuit, he was a friggin' piece of art (perhaps _The Scream_, HAH!). And another thing, why the hell were there so many clown slashers? Freddy counted at least five!). "We actually exist! We did our killings the old fashioned way! You had to kill everyone in dreams! When you got dragged out, you got your ass kicked!"

What followed was partially because of the comment, and partially for Freddy just being who he was, but mostly it was due to Clown Jumpsuit's horrid sense of slasher fashion.

KER-STAB!

"Anyone else want to question my qualifications?" Freddy asked, as he yanked his finger knives out of Clown Jumpsuit's now-quite-dead corspse. "Getting back to…wait a minute. Ker-stab? Is that the best special effects we can get nowadays? With all these computers? KER-STAB? **_KER-STAB?_**"

One of his cloaked lieutenants coughed. Freddy cut his rant off and warped back up to his throne.

"Now, under my guidance, I am here to set you on the right path, the path to victory and atonement! You…"

"Wait a sec, why do we need atonement?" Another slasher asked.

"Because there is a very serious problem here, just by you existing! And that is the fact that there are too many of you, all trying to be me!"

"Actually I'm trying to be Jason." Trevor Moorehouse said.

"Me too!" Jackson said. Freddy looked at the voices and did a double take, almost betraying his sudden startled state. They both looked like Jason, hell they were clones! Trevor Moorehouse even had a chainsaw for a hand!

"Wow, more then one?" Trevor Moorehouse said.

"Yeah, what are the ODDS man?" Jackson replied.

"RARRGGGHHHH!" Freddy yelled, as he thrust out his hand. Bolts of energy arced from his glove, and two seconds later two more slashers had become piles of ash on the ground.

"And there will be no mentions of that big rotting dog again!" Freddy snapped. "Now, since I have no desire to keep killing you because you keep interrupting me, I will take questions now! Consider them carefully! Yes, you with the axe."

A dozen slashers looked confused.

"THE CLOSEST ONE!" Freddy snapped, annoyed so many had axes (if it wasn't a knife it was an axe).

"Yeah uh…what about them costumed kids? You know, the ones that would make more sense for us to be carvin' up? I mean, if we don't do nothin', won't they eventually interfere?"

"Oh no, not to worry! Those kids will be our next target as soon as we deal with the trigger group. It's some stupid fine print in the contract that we have to kill them all first, don't ask! Until then, I have sent something to keep them busy!"

"What?"

"Oh just something that was handy."

* * *

Once about a time, there was a man named Bruce Campbell, who created a cult hero character with a director named Sam Raimi. That hero was named Ash Williams, eventually scourge of undead monsters everywhere. Unfortunately, the evil he had fought had cost him his right hand, which had been possessed by a malevolent spirit and forced Ash to do impromptu surgery on it. Unfortunately, said spirit had hung around, and hence the hand now had a life of its own. 

You'd think that wouldn't be much of a threat.

"ARGH!" Savior yelled as he was poked in the eyes, Three Stooges style. As he was stumbling back, Ash's Hand ran down his body and then tied his shoelaces together. Which was really something considering Noel's boots didn't have laces.

While Savior was being introduced to the floor courtesy of said phantom laces, several different kinds of blasts exploded on the floor as Ash's Hand scampered across it, running on its fingers at a pace that would put Thing (the Addams Family one, not the Fantastic Four one) to shame, as it ran up on a table and onto an ancient looking book. _Necronomicon Ex Mortis_. The Book of the Dead.

"Nimble little bugger isn't it." Terra commented, and fired a spray of pebbles.

As the book abruptly vanished, along with the hand, and reappeared across the room.

Right next to Gauntlet, who swatted the hand away before it could react, opened up the book, and tore out a page.

"You're going to live in my scrapbook, next to Cassandra Cain's hair and three scraps of Superman's cape." Gauntlet said, as he looked delightedly at the page…as Ash's Hand leapt through the air and punched Gauntlet in the face, sending him stumbling back into the other Titans as the hand bounced back to the book. And it then proceeded to flip them off.

As the trapdoor that had NOT been there in the floor before burst open and a hideous demonic female entity, corpulent and disgusting, erupted forth.

"I'LL SWALLOW YOUR SOUL! I'LL SWALLOW YOUR-!" It proclaimed.

And then it screamed as a storm of projectiles blew it apart. As a hail of disgusting meat splattered on the floor, Robin grinned and produced another Birdarang as it unfolded in his hand.

"NEXT."

* * *

"I also sent something after that other group. Not that they'd interfere. Just to be a prick." Freddy chuckled.

* * *

"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" Brother Blood screamed, and then hid behind his chair, even as Gizmo and several other Hive members commenced to blast apart the cloaked monsters that had invaded the Headmaster's room. 

"What the FUCK ARE THESE THINGS?" Sabotage cursed as he violently broke the closest one's neck.

"They're goblins! Heaven help us, they're from the 'movie' _Troll II!_" Gizmo replied as his laser cannons blew several more away.

"Goblins?" Mammoth said as he smashed one underfoot. "But the movie's called…"

"THE FACT THAT THEY ARE GOBLINS WHEN THE MOVIE IS CALLED _TROLL II _IS AMONG THE VERY LEAST OF THE PROBLEMS THAT FILM POSSESSES!"

"Are they really that dangerous?"

"No! But the film is so goddamn bad! Why THEM?" Gizmo cursed.

"Is it really THAT bad?"

"It's not No 1 on the Bottom 100 of IMDB Dot Com for nothing!"

"The writer would like to indicate that that position is of the current time of writing." Buzz Bomb said as he popped onto the screen. "Said position may not be accurate whenever you next read this. By the way, since it's _Troll II_, there was a _Troll I_. Look up the name of the main character! What an interesting-"

"Less forth wall breaking, more vegetarian stomping!" Gizmo yelled at the bee-themed villain. "Are you all right headmaster?"

"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

"Oh someone up there hates me." Gizmo said, and resumed blasting.

* * *

"So they're being kept busy until we deal with the trigger group. Any more questions? Yes, you with the axe…in the Santa suit…WHO IS CLOSER TO ME!" Freddy snapped. He thought that was Ricky Cadwell, the brother of Billy Cadwell, who had appeared in the (then) controversial Christmas horror film _Silent Night, Deadly Night_ film, and who had also appeared in the incident last year. His brother Ricky had done the next two sequels, and had in turn followed his brother into being in a boogeymen attack. And just a note, there really was another Santa Claus slasher with an axe: Harry Standling, from _Christmas Evil._ And he thought the clowns were bad. 

"Yeah. When do we get the spring-loaded cats?"

Freddy stared.

"…WHAT?"

"You know, the sprint-loaded cats! You make a noise and entice a victim into the room, and then BAM! Hit them with the cat! The cat jumps or falls out, and they think the cat made the noise, and they drop their guard and start to leave, and that's when you jump out of hiding and gut them!"

Freddy's stare grew cold.

"It's a classic!"

KER-ZAP! Ricky would not be following his brother after all, as he was now a pile of ash.

"Great, now it's Ker-zap." Freddy muttered. How the hell had films like _Silent Night, Deadly Night_ gotten four sequels? Freddy had spent time setting up grotesque, horrifying scenarios, that were rife with pathos, gruesomeness, and terror…and these idiots were going for cheap jumps with spring-loaded cats. No wonder the horror genre had become such a joke.

"I have changed my mind! There will be no more questions, and no more talking! Time to strike!" Freddy said. "This will not be as simple as before! But is it doable all the same! To the survivors will go the victory and glory! You shall have a dozen sequels, and the best writers this pathetic industry can manage! You'll be the movies that ten year olds sneak into! So go out there, and make sure that you kill these so called villains! REMEMBER BOOGEYMEN PARTS 1, 2, AND PART 1: THE SPECIAL EDITION WITH OVER THREE HUNDRED PAGES OF ADDED MATERIAL!"

_"**Hey. No editorials."**_

"WHATEVER! CHARGE!" Freddy yelled, and with a roar all the slashers turned and charged off into the darkness. Within moments, all were gone.

Freddy took off his helmet, and with a flick of a wrist transformed it back into his fedora hat, as his general outfit morphed back into his usual attire.

"Of course, you morons are just as dead as that guy I just…ker-stabbed."

"…What?" One of his lieutenants said.

"Oh please. A hundred guys with essentially knives against people with the kind of firepower I saw them lugging in? History shows again and again that the hundred guys with knives might win, but it'll be Pyrrhic. The only guys to even get CLOSE to winning that were the Zulu, but the Browning Machine gun fixed THAT lil' problem." Freddy said. Though one couldn't really tell with the face covered, it was clear the lieutenant was raising an eyebrow at Freddy's analysis.

"Krueger, if you believe this, then why bother sending them in the first place? Why not send, say, that Japanese bat-wielding child again? Or better yet, why not I? Why waste time? I shall tempt them all into oblivion within the hour."

"Those stupid Japs have dominated MY world too long with their TV and scary girls shit! Lil' Bugger had his chance, he's done! And as for the losers, I figure they'll kill one or two of 'em, and really…those morons ain't forth a red cent for the lot of them. It's a public service to send them on a suicide mission."

"If it is a suicide mission."

"Yeah right, and pigs fly."

A few moments later, a pig with wings abrupt flew past Freddy. He turned and glared at his robed assistant.

"Why can't you be silent but violent like the other two?"

"If that was what you truly desired, I will not be here. But I will question your choice no longer, with one exception. How in the fiery pits of hell did you learn anything about history?"

"Wikipedia. Same placed I learned about THOSE soon to be dead dipshits."

"Which 'dipshits' are you referring to Krueger?"

"Take your pick."

* * *

Slade's face mask, showing only his remaining eye, was highly effective in concealing any and all expression…but the White Hole knew the particular kind of disbelief had definitely crossed his features. 

"So you are saying that this atmosphere has singled Miss Sine out as a target, ostensibly because she is the only one among us who has experienced this problem before…and this is manifesting by the expansion of the size of the fatty tissues and lobules in her bosom?" Slade said, saying each word as if he had to consider just what he was saying.

"I don't understand the logic of it either." The White Hole said as she glanced over at Nightwalker, who seemed to be on the verge of a D-Cup by now. She was clearly doing her best to ignore it, as she unloaded the crates she and White Hole had struggled so much to bring in (Fortunately, with so much furniture already broken from the previous problems, as well as the debris from said broken furniture finally all cleared out of the room, there was more then enough room for all the crates, as the extremely large variety of guns was removed and placed on the remaining tables). Then again, maybe that was why she'd kept her helmet on and up, so no one could see how she might really feel.

And while Slade was looking, White Hole left, having clearly given him all the information she saw fit to share. Well, he could always speak to Nightwalker if he decided there was a hole in the information she had given.

"All right people, listen up. Anyone who has firearm experience, you most likely don't need to listen to this, but for those who don't, this is a matter of life and death. Mainly because I'll shoot you if you screw up." Slade said, as he picked up a handgun and began going through the general motions of arming it. "It is true that we have a very wide variety of firepower here. However, if you do not have experience with guns, or if your experience is very minimal, I strongly suggest you use a handgun in this model, and nothing else."

"Yeah, don't try a three-pointer when you can dunk." Adonis said. Slade glanced at him.

"Despite what you may think, using guns is nowhere near as easy as it appears in fiction, and if you assume that you can apply that given ease to yourself, you will be sadly mistaken."

"Yeah, anyone can hit a ball, but there's only one Babe Ruth!" Adonis said again. Slade was starting to get annoyed.

"In other words, don't try and duel-wield guns…"

"Unlike a baseball bat!"

"Don't try and fire a shotgun like it's a pistol…"

"Unlike a hockey stick!"

"Don't interrupt me again or I WILL kill you." Slade said as he aimed at Adonis.

"Like a…GAH!" Adonis said, as he hid behind the bar…which didn't really work too well, due to his size.

"And don't search out your choice of weapon just because of its size or because you like how it looks. Because if you choose a weapon you are ill-suited for and this becomes apparent, I will make sure you don't get a chance to use it." Slade said, as he put the handgun down. "Now, about those with their own projectile attacks. Kurai?"

"Not bad master, but better to be safe." Kurai said, as he began loading his own handgun. Well, at least he understood the situation: Kurai wasn't by nature fond of guns.

"Komand'r?" Slade said, offering the Tamaranian a gun. He may as well have offered her a handful of his own feces, from the look she gave him.

"You BASTARD!" Blackfire said, as she slapped the gun out of his hand (Slade caught it with the other, lest it hit the floor and discharge). "Have you forgotten who I am? Or shall I crush your throat to remind you?"

"Master…!" Kurai said, jumping to his feet, but Slade stopped him with a gesture.

"Your Blackbolt ability has recovered to the point where utilizing a firearm is redundant to you then, Miss Komand'r."

"Don't patronize me Wilson." Blackfire hissed, as she clenched her fist, as it glowed purple…

And then she fired.

A Blackbolt the size of a tangerine.

Which immediately began slowing down until within a few seconds it was moving at walking speed.

And faded into nothing before it hit the wall.

Slade watched it as it moved, and then turned his gaze back on the alien, who was trying to cover up that pathetic display with an extra layer of stubborn defiance.

"Hoo-rah." Jack said. "Too bad you missed the Fourth of July by a few months birdie."

Blackfire seized her bottle and hurled it at Jack…who caught it with one hand. Well, it seemed the seal had weakened enough to give full substance back to his appendages.

"Cheers." Jack smirked, and began drinking from said bottle. The Australian sure could hold his alcohol: he'd been drinking regularly all evening, without much of a trace of intoxication. Maybe it was a side-effect of his talent.

Though Slade's attention was more drawn to an utterly furious Tamaranian, who stood there steaming that her bottle throw had failed so badly.

"So what? I'll just let them get close! A hole that size can still cause a lot of problems! Like death! I'll save all your asses, you shits!" Blackfire said, and stormed off, heading back to the bar and its still numerous bottles of alcohol.

"Pride goeth ever before the fall." Slade said to himself. "As for the rest of you, having a backup in case of problems with this magical seal is recommended. Listen to these words, and you most likely have a better chance of surviving."

There was a brief pause, as Slade had finished speaking.

And Adonis dove back in.

"All right guys, this is it! The bottom of the ninth, fourth down with fifty yards to go, ten seconds on the clock, our best players in the penalty box! We need to a Hail Mary, drive it out of the park, and if we get a hat trick, we might just survive!"

And with a series of rapid clicks, virtually everyone in the bar was pointing guns at Adonis, even several people who Slade could have sworn had not previously armed themselves.

"Or…something like that." Adonis squeaked.

"Enough. Forget it." Slade said as he lowered his pistol, though he was very mildly mystified by Adonis' behavior. Why did the robot suited idiot keep interrupting him, and talking in all the sports meta…

A strange thought crossed Slade's mind. White Hole and Nightwalker had spoken of direct targeting done by the atmosphere, on top of the general suspension of more then a few aspects of chance and reality. Nightwalker was being targeted by her strange growth…and as Slade recalled from his conversation with Control Freak, horror films didn't have much in the way of storytelling, tending to use the same basic batch of archetypes over and over. And one of them was usually a sports player. A jock.

And Adonis was certainly talking like the old stereotype of a jock.

Then again, Slade thought, while his suit made Adonis look like a jock, the man inside it had never played or watched an actual sport in his life: he was a closet D & D player and mechanical enthusiast. So if the spell was trying to make him a jock…it didn't have much to work with.

Adonis might not be the only one. Blackfire was certainly overflowing with the certain shallow fierceness most people assigned a term to that usually meant female dog. And Slade himself had briefly been overwhelmed, acting the virtual opposite of how he usually did. He'd have to keep an eye on it, see if it was affecting anyone else in the group, though he couldn't see just where yet…right?

He'd give it some more thought after they finished up here. For the moment there were other things to do, as Slade headed over to Killjoy, who had commandeered a whole table to himself, all of it covered with heavy artillery. He was currently loading up a SPAS-12 shotgun, the same make and model Slade's was (though Slade's was heavily modified).

"Killjoy." Slade said, as the silent assassin glanced up at him. "When you are done arming yourself, I have a request. Assemble several groups of weapons, enough to be carried without difficulty. Variety is important; assemble the weapons in groupings for each and any combat situation you can think of. There are materials behind the bar: I want you to place your assembled choices in the burlap cloth provided and tie them up. For simple access to combat layouts. In return, feel free to keep any of these weapons you choose to."

Killjoy said nothing as he resumed arming his shotgun, but Slade knew that if he didn't want to he'd have given a clear sign. For all Killjoy's coldness, he knew how to survive, and he knew that working with the group, in as much as such a group could work together, increased his chances. Slade moved on.

The new one, Doctor Westminster, had retrieved another M-16, Nightwalker having ditched her own, and had laid it down on another table around a variety of firearm parts and a few other weapons, including grenades. He noticed Slade, and then his eyes flicked down at the table and then back up to Slade.

"Deathstroke."

"Yes?"

"What is this?" Westminster said, lifting a fancy looking attachment.

"A bit hard to define. You could say it was a tazer…or you could say it was a electrical blaster. It's somewhere in the middle. Very new, not available on the common market. Attaches to the M-16 where the M203 grenade launcher usually would. It doesn't have many shots, but it would work somewhat better then grenades in an enclosed space."

"Sounds good." Westminster said as he put the attachment down.

"Your clothing indicates possible military training, but in the days of costumes such things are far from certain, so I must ask…" Slade began.

As Westminster rapidly assembled the M16, attaching and arming the entire weapon in a quick twenty second burst, and then slammed in a clip.

"Yes." Westminster said, as he sighted with the gun.

"Very well. How goes the recovery of your talent?"

"Slow. I'm running low on painkillers as it is…but if necessary I could probably produce some material. Not much, but some." Westminster said.

"Keep that in mind." Slade replied, as he walked on.

"Why do you keep hanging around?" The Sorceress asked, where she tentatively stood, leaning on a chair to help her balance with her underused legs.

"Excuse me?" Brick asked, as he opened up one of the crates and began placing the largest of the guns, full sized gatling cannons, on a nearby table.

"Ever since the transformation. You've been hanging around me. And this is considering before this happened I was planning on punishing you for what you did to my safe."

"Technically, that was not me." Brick said. "That was…what my mind had become. And I am as little control of it as you might be. It is so heavily suggestible that it reaches the point of absurdity, and has, many times."

"That doesn't explain why you're hanging around me."

"This is a magic-based conundrum. You are the primary authority on magic here, as the Lord said before his sudden demise. And your closeness to the reaction seems to have dampened your abilities to an even further extent then the rest of us. Yet your expertise has not lessened. Should the solution prove problematic, your survival would probably greatly lessen any tribulation that results, even if you cannot cast spells at your previous levels." Brick said. "While weakened myself, my body is considerably more hardy then yours. It is for mutual benefit…so to speak."

"I hope you're not trying to curry any favor with me Brick. I'm in no mood…"

"Vogel." Brick said. "I am Dr. Henry Vogel. The Brick is the unfortunate accident of my desire to survive…much like this, minus the accident part. I should not be considered him."

"That's your name though. Brick. And so it shall remain." The Sorceress said. Brick/Vogel sighed and removed a type of gun he didn't recognize. He couldn't even find a trigger: to him it looked like a giant cross between a TV remote and a halogen light tube.

"What, praytell, is this Slade?" He asked as the mercenary passed by on his round.

"Nothing that will be of use to us, most likely." Slade replied. "It's a prototype. In theory it will essentially be a lightning gun. Westminster has a much smaller, more practical version attached to his weapon: this prototype would be able to fire shots at twenty times the power his attachment does. But it is just a prototype: the weapon battery is only good for one good shot, not to mention the heat melts the weapon more often then not upon firing. Not practical at all in our situation. Put it aside Brick, and when we're done selecting weapons place it back in the box with the discards." Slade said, as he turned to the Sorceress. "Ithlian. How are you feeling?"

"I'd be feeling a lot better if I wasn't surrounded by all this disgusting junk." The Sorceress replied.

"Ah yes, I see your great acrimony for science has not lessened. I do not really care to add to it, but that is beyond me at the moment. In regards to your strength and magical abilities."

"If I said I was 20 percent I'd be lying. But I am still more then a match for any nonsense this chaos manifestation throws at us."

_You might not think that if I told you the details of that incarnation from the Japanese cartoon Nightwalker and While Hole faced, if their descriptions were any way accurate._ Slade thought to himself.

"Good. I assume being the great master of all things magic, you have some kind of size reducing spell."

"I do, but why…"

"Let me finish. We are still sorting through and preparing ourselves. When we are done, I am going to place all the backup weapons and ammunition I wish to keep back in the crates. And then I want you to shrink them down for easy carrying."

"WHAT?" Sorceress snapped.

"You CAN do this, can't you?"

"That is irrelevant! You dare ask me to use my…"

"Yes yes. Your powers are pure and radiant, and these tools are filthy and tainted and abominable and all that. But if your lessened talents prove to not be up to the task of repulsing the threat, these so called filthy tools will be all that stands between you and death, more likely then not. So you consider your current level of power, and consider the problems facing us, and then you make a choice. You can hate or you can live. Best make it swiftly." Slade said.

Sorceress glared at the mercenary, at all the firearms on his person, toxic metal and chemicals…as the burning in her gut reminded her of the bitter truth. She was too weakened to fight properly for long.

"…shrinking those boxes will not be easy. It will most likely use up what power I have managed to restore."

"Then we will have to make sure we protect you well afterward." Slade said. "You may wish to arm yourself with one of these weapons though. Just to be as safe as possible."

The Sorceress glared daggers at Slade.

"Or do not. I am planning on surviving this, Miss Ithlian. Whether you do or not is somewhat to my concern…but not as big as it would be needed to absolutely ensure your life. Remember that." Slade said, and walked on.

Sorceress scowled after him.

"You know, he speaks the truth. Even if you do hate science and technology, one would think your life should come first." Brick said.

"Pah. You humans." The Sorceress said. "You mix up a powder and shove it in a tube and suddenly you think you've created some great power. No, all you've done is create a shortcut. That's all your accursed science is, shortcuts to understandings and beliefs, not a dredge of genuine enlightenment…" The female mage said, as she looked into the crate and then reached in and seized the first weapon she could. "And you look at it and instead of saying let's see what else I can discover you say let's just make bigger ones and ones with more deadly effects and maybe one day they'll be some purpose behind it all…"

The Sorceress trailed off as she realized Brick was looking rather nervously at her.

"What?"

"Uh…Sorceress? Ithlian, he said your name was? You may want to choose a different weapon…"

"Why?" The Sorceress said, as she hefted the gun she had selected. "Your weapons are all the same! You point it at the target and your little pieces of metal come out and…!"

**_BLA-BOOM!_** For a moment the Sorceress COULD fly again, as she flew backwards and smashed against the wall in a bone-jarring thud, as Brick recoiled to the side and then looked behind him. Fortunately for them, no villain had been standing near the wall that now had a great big hole in it.

Rabbits and hats were still dancing in front of the Sorceress' eyes as Slade leaned down before her.

"A clarifying detail, Miss Ithlian. Much like the fact that all your spells are magic does not make them the same, the fact that all these weapons are guns does not mean they all act the same. They exert varying degrees of force in their execution, and as a result, have varying degrees of feedback. Considering your frail frame and lack of experience, it is probably not in your, or our, best interest to select as your choice of a weapon, an elephant gun." Slade said, as he took the immensely powerful shotgun variant from the dazed mystic. "Seeing how it was designed to bring down a creature that has one of the thickest hides and skeletal structures on this planet, it emits a great degree of kinetic energy…more then I believe you are capable of handling. I suggest you select from the much smaller line of weapons."

The Sorceress stared at Slade with her glazed eyes, and then gave a shaky thumbs-up, as if she was simultaneously confused about the motion and what it meant. Slade took that as a good enough answer and walked on.

"Geez. For a second I thought he was trying to kill us all again." Mad Mod said from where he sat, as he adjusted his glasses (they had been knocked akimbo by the way he had jerked when Sorceress had accidentally fired the elephant gun). "I'm getting on in years, I don't need surprises like that."

"Getting on? You're younger then I am!" The Handyman said.

"Yes, but that's just because of my cane, and that's due to run out soon. Not that that makes me a weakling, but still…Slade would have shot me as dead as the rest if I hadn't been the only one to duck!"

"I still can't believe it." Light said from where he sat, his arms wrapped around him: one got the sense he was one more shock away from going into a fetal position. "I knew Slade was harsh, but that's…amazingly harsh."

"Nice work, doctor." The Handyman said. "Glad to see I didn't need to go to a big school, if that's all the vocabulary you got."

"Why you seventh-rate Bob Vilas! I'm still…!"

"Bzzzzzzzzz."

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"You'd think that would stop working eventually, but it doesn't, does it." Mad Mod commented at Light once again hiding under the table.

"Hey…!" Puppet King said as he walked over, a bit more sure on his feet now due to the Sorceress' hypothesized leaking seal on powers. "Why'd they give me the smallest gun?"

Puppet King held up a pistol that looked more like a toy then a firearm…as the villains at the table just looked at him, then looked away. No answer needed. Puppet King muttered under his breath and stomped off.

"You think we should do something about Slade's sudden proclivity to kill us? Before he decides the best way to test one of these many weapons is to use us as target practice?" The Handyman pondered.

"What? You mean try and disable him? Even kill him? Hah." Mad Mod said. "We wouldn't have had much of a chance back when Johnny and Atlas and the rest were still alive. Now, forget it. He's not placed above the rest of us in the accursed brat's eyes for nothing. And even if we COULD, we'd still have to deal with his two apprentices. Take care of all three at once? Forget it. Better we just keep an eye on him."

"And take into consideration the reasons behind his actions." Nightwalker said as she passed by. "To repeat it again, this isn't just a problem of monsters. It's a problem of surroundings as well. Being forced into a set of actions and beliefs, on a variety of levels and…face up here guys." Nightwalker said, pointing to her still-up helmet.

"Considering we can't see either, does it really matter?" Dr. Light said from where he had peeked over the table.

An orb slammed into the tabletop a few inches from Light's face, as he yelped and ducked under the table again.

"I didn't want this to happen. My tolerance is very limited on reactions to it." Nightwalker said. "From what I heard, the atmosphere played sneakily with Slade. It got behind his extreme distaste of the setup of all this and pushed him towards irrationality. While keeping an eye on him is probably a good thing, just remember he wasn't quite himself."

"Ma'am, with all due rebreast-RESPECT, RESPECT!" The Handyman blurted. "I can totally see him doing that to someone he thought was D-cup-DEAD WEIGHT, DEAD WEIGHT! Even when he IS in his right size, bra, boobies, Ah!" The Handyman said, clapping his hand over his mouth. Nightwalker glared at him.

"One Freudian slip is understandable. That many means you're either doing it on purpose, or you're being influenced. Take a moment to review yourself, Handyman. Slade's reaction to another influenced member of this would be merry band will probably be far more severe then mine in regards to my problem."

"Yeah, I did feel a bit off." The Handyman said. "It's probably because of lack of sleep, or maybe your giant tits. I mean, your jugs are huge! I mean, I wanna squeeze them! I mean…Mama!" Handyman said, and made suckling noises.

Nightwalker's punch echoed across the bar.

"Are you done quoting one of Carrey's better films, or do I have to actually hurt you?" Nightwalker said darkly.

"…Thank you miss, can I have another?" Handyman asked. Nightwalker threw up her hands and stalked off.

"The sad thing, Handyman, is I totally agree with you." Mad Mod said, as Handyman got up, rubbed his jaw, and sat down, even as Dr. Light peeked his head over the table again.

"About Slade or about the…"

"SLADE. SLADE." Mad Mod snapped.

"And that's forgetting the bigger problem." Light said. "Handyman, shouldn't you take a gun, since your gimmick gun only had one clip of ammo?"

"I tried to, but when I did Rose said we couldn't hurt them and trying was pointless. Then she stuck her tongue out at me." Handyman said, looking confused. "That gun would just weigh me down when the time came for running anyway."

"What? I was going to use you as my meatshield!" Light blurted out.

"Yet another good reason to run." The Handyman said, and got up and left before any more could be said.

"Argh. Arthur, you have got to learn-OWWWWWWWWW!" Light yelled as Mad Mod hit him on his head with his cane. "What was that for?"

"I called dibs on Handyman you rotter!"

"Oh piss off you French-Fry-wrong-name-caller."

"NOW LISTEN YOU…"

"See if I ever try to assuage anyone's fears ever again. Ugh." Nightwalker said, as she headed away from the now arguing table. She quickly spotted the White Hole, sitting in a corner, her back to the wall and her eyes closed. Resting after the nasty strikes she had taken from Lil' Slugger, whose chaos magic manifestation had proven to be quite taxing for the alien, especially with her reduced endurance. Then again, consider Lil' Slugger was supposed to kill (if he wanted to) anything he struck with one blow, the Blacktrinian had probably gotten off easy. Nightwalker located her personal briefcase of ammo behind the bar, and then headed over to the White Hole, picking up a handgun along the way.

"While I know your species has that hang-up about projectiles, I figure I'll ask anyway: would you like a gun?" Nightwalker asked. The White Hole flicked her eyes open, glanced at Nightwalker, then the gun (which was an M1911 handgun), and then back at Nightwalker.

"No." The White Hole said, as she rolled her shoulders.

"Hmmmm." Nightwalker said, as she checked the gun, put on the safety, and then stuck it in her own belt.

"I can hear it in your tone. You think turning down the gun is a bad idea. That I'm letting personal prejudices get in the way of something that might aid my survival." The White Hole said, leaning back with her eyes closed again. "You think I'm being foolish, maybe even wondering if this is part of my so called savage nature, that I prefer to rip and smash beings apart with my own two hands."

"…Not wholly." Nightwalker said.

"Ah, still honest. A rare trait." The White Hole said. "That is partly the reason Sine. But I have my own reasons for not taking up a gun. And I want to clear something up." The White Hole said, as she opened her eyes and adjusted her hat a touch. "My species lives for war. And for a very long time, all we know how to fight was each other. Our fighting tactics, our way of battle, became so deeply ingrained into our society it may as well be in our genes. It is that way that contributes to more then a fair deal of my reputation. We are a species that charges in, gets close, guts, rips apart, crushes into a bloody pulp, and does so over and over. This is, by many aspects, savage. But to us, it is not all it is, and most importantly, it is not all bad."

"War by itself is bad, really." Nightwalker said, as she reached into her briefcase and began restocking her spent gauntlet ammo.

"So you say. But I think I know why so many of you humans believe that." The White Hole said. "I've read up on your history, to try and understand why that traitor Hastionfarlock was so enamored by your species…I've read of your wars. How much you've lost your way."

"Lost our way?"

"You would say we Blacktrinians fight like animals. Maybe we do. But we rose to meet our opponents face to face. I looked my many, many victims in their eyes when I took their lives. Call it barbaric, but it was personal. I struck my foes down knowing full well my act. Many of my fellows did likewise. It seemed…proper, overall. A manifestation of survival of the fittest. You humans fought that way once too, but then you started coming up with new methods. Very well, we Blacktrinians have adapted other tactics as well. But we have always, ALWAYS preferred the one on one fight. The 'savagery', as it were. When you win that way, you know your victory is just and right. You have proven the stronger, one of the deepest laws of life." The White Hole said. "But you humans…you went in directions I can't believe. I remember reading of your first truly grand war, back in the early years of your 20th century…and being utterly stunned at how you chose to fight."

"I assume you're referring to trench warfare." Nightwalker said, knowing a little history herself.

"Many call me insane how I fight. No, THAT, your no man's lands, THAT is insane!" The White Hole stated. "To charge an enemy and grind him under your heel, that is a good way to win. Even if you take severe casualties, it makes…sense. But your way of fighting, going back and forth, thousands dying and bleeding into a morass of mud and rot, weeks and weeks going by while each side shot and shelled each other without gaining a meter either way, on and on and on, it's anathema! It's…blasphemous! So much wasted life, in such an artificial manner…it's not war, or battle. It's a meat grinder! Say what you will about us, we never pointlessly threw our lives away like the way so many human soldiers did in that conflict!"

"Did we get any better?"

"No, you just kept going sideways at an angle into worse territories, so to speak. When you had your second great war a few decades later you came up with an even better way to waste lives: you blasted everything from the air with bombs! I can see the tactical reasoning behind it, but that's no way to fight! Not to mention your explosives were so primitive and inaccurate that they were more often hitting benign, harmless targets and killing 'innocents' then striking what you wanted to hit! I won't deny that I have killed females, children, creatures that could inflict no harm on me in the least, but at least I did it because I meant to, because I felt it was needed, not because my weapon was so crude that it hit them instead of a proper target! And then you had your other war that is spoken of so much, Vietnam was it, where you let endless waves of babbling rabble claiming they wanted peace sabotage the efforts of the country's attempts to win. You will probably bring up your country's right to free speech, well, that is why I say free speech is so annoyingly ludicrous. Scum should not have a voice on matters they do not understand." The White Hole said, and paused to take a brief drink from her glass. "Of course, your leadership seemed to have little clue of what it was doing either. Sending their soldiers into such territory, a wild morass that killed the men as much as the enemy did. It would be like sending Blacktrinians to fight in an ocean! It just makes no sense at all! Not to mention all the insanity and other defects that appeared among the men sent to fight due to the horrid decision making all around. If Blacktrinia had been forced to fight a war like that, the public would have rebelled within a month and torn the leaders apart themselves! Instead, you just accepted it, reducing it to an endless series of chastising and nattering. Either kill the fools who sabotage your support or kill the fools who led you into such an improper situation, just don't sit there and accept it. And it's clear you've learned nothing in that regard from your more recent battles. So yes, Sine, you humans have lost your way. You call me a monster? Well I call you an imbecile and an addle-brained bunch of dolts to think this is how you fight battles. Now, really, which one of us is right?"

Nightwalker was silent. The White Hole adjusted her hat again.

"Even not invoking my opinions on your species in comparison to what I believe about war, think of it this way. I have worked centuries to become the fearsome individual I have been regarded as. I WORKED at it, Sine…certain issues aside of course." The White Hole said quietly. "And yet anyone, from the inferiors in this bar, those fools who tried to rob us earlier, on and on across your world and many others, who have earned nothing, who are WORTH NOTHING, could pick up one of those guns you offered me, and with one quick choice, one gargantuan stroke of luck, just aim it at me…and I would be dead. They could kill me. Such a tool makes waste into killers, without any of the skills or sacrifice such a gift should allow. So no, Nightwalker. I am who I am because of what I did, and I will not take up a tool that takes my mastery and makes it…commonplace."

The White Hole sipped from her drink again.

"Besides, you have your own unique weapon setup you've been arming all the while I spoke. Why would you want a gun? And if you do, why not just use a gun in the first place?"

"You said it, in a way. Guns are commonplace. For the world I seek to walk in and perhaps one day stride across like a colossus, those who have not sought some kind of protection from the weapon are weak and foolish and not long for the world. How does one get past these defenses? Well, one can aim for the head, as the head is often hard to shield, but the head is also a small target, hard to hit even by the skilled, and while armor is difficult, it is not impossible." Nightwalker said. "One needs something more unique, that operates under similar circumstances of firearms yet deviates enough to provide you with an advantage. Hence, my custom weapon system. However, in this case, having some backup firepower is a good thing. Especially since certain things are not working as they NORMALLY should." Nightwalker said, indicating her chest.

"Ah yes, I heard the males commenting on that."

"Almost as annoying as the problem itself. Perverts." Nightwalker said, as she began going over her chosen setup.

"It really is a roundabout way to ensure your death. If it can cause such a change in your body, while not simply cause a vein to rupture in your brain?"

"Ah, but why does the Lord not just blow up Titans' Tower while they're all in it? Because it would be far too simple. And hence, lack any real satisfaction." Nightwalker said. "It's not how these films work. People don't die because of sudden body failures. They die because someone pokes a few extra holes in them, or eats them, or something like that. And since they're so derivative of each other, they don't have much in the way of variety. Hence the same people always die, with minimal switchup. And since they can't waste time defining characters, they often just settle for physical attributes and certain actions. So trust me, suddenly looking like I've walked through the set of _Nip/Tuck_ is a bad thing, not only because it marks me as a target for killers and annoying comments, but because it messes up the person I know I am."

"Well…I don't think it's such a problem. In fact, on Blacktrinia it would probably be considered an advantage."

"What? So if your boobs suddenly start spontaneously ballooning you'd just go 'Oh. well, que sera, sera.'?"

"Well no, but from my point of view it's not that much of a disadvantage, or that bad of a thing."

"Yeah well you've got a Miss Needleass body. I don't."

"…Miss…needle…ass…?"

"Injections through the buttocks is a popular way of injecting steroids."

"Oh. Well, I don't take drugs. Well, not those kind of drugs anyway. I have tried a few, but not in that vein…stopped because they didn't have much affect…though I did take one that made more horny then a Tamaranian on Tria-fruit…"

"…Okkkkkkkkkk." Nightwalker said.

"Well, I have lived a long time, done a lot of stupid things." The White Hole continued, almost in an overly swift manner.

"No limit on those in a lifetime."

"Hmmmmm. Yes." The White Hole said. "But apart from the stupid thing I've done, larger busts mean the same thing in my culture as it does yours."

"Maybe that's true, but it's irrelevant. I was fine with what I had. This is NOT a good thing."

"It isn't? I was under the impression seeming more appealing was a good thing to your species."

"Not like this! I was used to my body. This is an abrupt change. And that's not even taking into account the reasons behind it!"

"But if you had the choice, between who you were and what you could be, what would you do?"

"I'd rather be who I could be by my own choices."

"Point exactly. If you had your choice, who would you be?"

"Who I am." Nightwalker said definitely.

"…Hmmmmm." The White Hole said. "Well, I stand by my observation, but that's probably because despite what you believe the Blacktrinian race is by nature more maternal then demonic."

"Really? Then why not let the Titan Scalpel go, live his life as he wants, like any good mother would?" Nightwalker said, as she closed up her specialized briefcase, wincing briefly as she spoke the last words and realized how they applied to her.

"…it couldn't be like that. Not just because of…my problem. I had a reputation to uphold. It's what they've always said of me. I cannot admit defeat. After a while…I started to believe it myself."

"Not a good way to live." Nightwalker replied, as she fully closed up the briefcase.

"…I suppose not." The White Hole replied, as she leaned back, looking thoughtful. "I suppose not…"

Nightwalker sensed all had been said that could be said for the moment and left. The White Hole watched her go, thinking of Sine's complaints. Too bad she couldn't see the benefits. As far as the White Hole cared, having big breasts was not a bad thing. There were considerably worse things in Blacktrinian culture…far worse.

Slade was looking inside a mostly emptied crate while figuring out storage issues in his head when Control Freak sidled up.

"Hey, this looks just like Han Solo's blaster! DIBS!" Control Freak said as he snatched up a weapon on the table near the box.

"That's a gas grenade gun. We're in a poorly vented bar. Pick another one." Slade said. Control Freak looked disappointed, but did so.

"…Ooohh, this looks like a phaser!" Control Freak said as he grabbed up another gun/device.

"That's an Old One model magical scanner. Give it. NOW." Slade said dangerously. Disappointed again, Control Freak handed the device over, as Slade slipped it into one of his few remaining free pouches, the rest now filled with various supplies, mostly ammo.

"Fine." Control Freak groused. "Oooh, that looks like Indiana Jones' gun!"

"Now that one is actually a gun. Knock yourself out. Nerd." Slade said, saying the last word under his breath.

Control Freak was looking over his new toy when Nightwalker arrived.

"Slade I heard you planned to shrink these boxes down for storage. I request to know if my personal ammo storage can be included."

"We shall see." Slade replied. Nightwalker nodded, and then noticed Control's Freak not wholly careful movements with his gun.

"Control Freak, do you know how to use firearms?" Nightwalker asked.

"Point the hollow end at the person you want to stop living?" Control Freak replied.

"That's very basic you know."

"He was raised on television…" Slade began.

"AMERICAN television!" Mad Mod called.

"…AMERICAN television and actually LIVES in it most of the time. I'm surprised he can even handle basics." Slade commented.

"HEY!" Control Freak said, and almost made to point his gun at Slade, before Nightwalker grabbed his wrist and forcibly lowered it.

"VERY. BAD. IDEA." Nightwalker said. "Now pay attention Control Freak. This is not like a Schwarzenneger film. Guns can run out of ammo, or jam, or generally stop working, so you need to know what to do then and MY EYES ARE UP HERE."

"I'm sorry! I'm only human!" Control Freak wailed. "…So, ever considered becoming a Suicide Girl?"

KER-PUNCH!

"Now next…what was that sound?" Nightwalker said. To test it, she punched Control Freak again.

KER-PUNCH!

"…Oh what the…"

KER-PUNCH!

"…this is the best special effect we can afford?" Nightwalker groaned.

"STOP TESTING IT ON ME, YOU BIMBO!" Control Freak yelled.

KER-KICK!

"Now that just makes no sense at all." Nightwalker said.

"Yes." Kurai said, nearby and overhearing…incorrectly. "Trust me, she is not the bimbo."

"And what does THAT mean Kurai?" Slade asked. Kurai sweatdropped.

"Um, obviously that the bimbo of this , er, movie, issssssssssss…Blackfire!"

"WHAT?" Blackfire yelled from her position at the bar, as she started to get up.

"Step down." Kurai said, turning and aiming his glowing hand at Blackfire. "You couldn't fight me on your BEST day."

"Kurai, stop. No need to waste energy. Blackfire, you as well. And Miss Sine, perhaps you should remove your helmet if you feel certain members of this group are looking in the wrong place. Your insistence on leaving it up is beginning to make me wonder if you're really a mole of some kind hiding their identity."

"Fine, fine." Nightwalker said, as she reached up and began pressing the buttons to make her helmet disassemble. "But do we really need to be discussing this…"

And the helmet fully broke apart, assembling back into Nightwalker's shoulder armor as her hair swung down.

And suddenly, every villain nearby was staring at her.

"…What?" Nightwalker said, and looked behind her. She saw nothing except Brick and Sorceress, and turned back to find the villains were still looking. "WHAT?"

"It's been nice knowing you." Control Freak said, as he saluted and then walked off.

"What the…?" Nightwalker said.

"Miss Sine, please look at your hair." Slade said.

"My hair? What…" Nightwalker said, as she both looked down and reached up to push some of her long locks in front of her…

And immediately saw what had caused everyone to stare. The deep red of her flowing mane was gone. Every single strand had, at some point when she had put her helmet up, turned a brand new color.

Golden blonde.

"…OH YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!" Nightwalker shrieked.

* * *

"You are becoming more and more of a debauchee as you age, you know, Krueger." The robed lieutenant said as Freddy said on his throne and watched the screen, looking pleased with himself. 

"Pshah. I was always like this, now I just have more wrinkles." Freddy replied.

"I believe your skin condition…"

"IT WAS JUST AN EXPRESSION NUMBNUTS!"

* * *

"Miss Sine, I really must ask for an explanation to this, as I highly doubt you decided to stop by a hair saloon on your way back here. The fact you did not seem to be aware of this only makes it more strange." Slade said. 

"You know what it is Slade. It's the same problem that affected my…attributes." Nightwalker said. "Blonde is supposedly a sign of stupidity. And blonde characters in horror films usually follow that cliché, and don't live to tell the tale. It's going as much out of its way to ensure my demise as it can. But fuck that and fuck them." Nightwalker said. "Give me another gun."

"Are you certain you know how to use it?"

"Yes. Give me another gun. Please." Nightwalker said, spitting out the last word. Slade gave her two. Nightwalker checked them and placed them in whatever free access area she had. "Now what's the plan?"

"Oh no need to worry Miss Sine. I'm sure you'll pick it up should any trouble occur." Slade said, and turned and left. Nightwalker blinked.

And then she looked around herself, and found it wasn't just Slade. Everyone had heard her little announcement…

And Nightwalker, with a sudden chill, realized just how they were interpreting it. They saw the fact that she was so singled out as a threat, a possible hole in their own defenses. And if that was the case, there was only one solution. Look out for their own asses and throw her to the wolves.

Nightwalker's teeth set on edge. The situation had grown much worse. True, she hadn't really expected the group to be able to work together, like the Titans or even the Hive could. But she'd expected they would at least act in similar ways for the sake of their own survival. And they were, but unfortunately that similarity was working against her. With one more simple alteration, the changes forced on her had cut her off from any support…

…wait…perhaps not all…

Nightwalker glanced over to the White Hole…and her heart sank when she saw the alien was staring at her. Hell, the way she was looking at Nightwalker made her wish the alien was expressing the purposeful ignorance the rest of the villains were.

No sense in wondering. Nightwalker walked over.

"You heard what I said. And even if you didn't, you probably know what caused this."

"Yes."

"Will you side with the rest of them?"

"…Dragging an injured member of the part you are in may seem noble to you humans. To me, it slows us down. In the end, it's efficiency that matters. You should understand that by now Sine." The White Hole said quietly.

"All right. If you believe a sudden hair change makes you vulnerable, then have it that way." Nightwalker said tersely, and then spun and walked off.

The White Hole watched…and for a brief moment wondered if she should have just told the truth on why she had turned Nightwalker away. True, maybe the fact that the atmosphere was so overtly targeting her was cause for concern, and possibly even a small crack in her defenses…but the White Hole was too confident in her own abilities, not to mention in what she had seen in Nightwalker before, to really think such a weakness was anything but negligible, even ignorable. It wasn't her real reason.

Her true reason was what she had said. That there were worse things in Blacktrinian culture.

And one of those things was that Blacktrinians considered blonde women to be bad luck.

Now as silly as that may sound, let us not forget that humans think they're stupid by nature, so we are hardly in a position to judge, are we?

It was simply that: Blacktrinians thought that if you were a blonde woman, you were bad luck. Where this belief had come from had been long forgotten, but it was believed to the extent that the previous Empress of the empire had bleached her blonde hair white in order to avoid any possible repercussions, as she was already doubtful in her own abilities and her ability to rule the empire (White hair being considered somewhat unpopular, but less so than blonde). The Empress ruled the empire for a year or so, and actually did a pretty good job, even if she didn't do much in the way of conquering, but that could probably be attributed mostly to the fact that she was promptly usurped, because, according to the new ruler, she was bad luck for the empire.

Of course, said new ruler has swiftly run the Empire into the ground, but that's another story.

And the White Hole wasn't just following old legends: she had first hand experience at it. As the White Hole, in older times, she had been the leader of a group of men and women who were the elite of the Empire (they were essentially all White Holes, with Rebecca being the top dog). This elite ranged from special weapons experience to having some sort of unique power (like her own genetic superiority). One White Hole, whose name was the Blacktrinian version of Aradia Elegia, had blonde hair and claimed that not only was she the greatest mind that they had ever seen, she was also not a jinx.

As such she had dragged the White Hole over to the platform that she was working on one day, clambered up onto it, and started pressing some buttons on the pet project she was working on without explaining exactly what she was doing. The White Hole had stood there for a few minutes, unimpressed, before she turned and was about to walk away. Unfortunately, she hadn't left soon enough, and was still in the position she had been in when the last button was pressed and the accident occurred with the pet project she was standing on: a teleporter.

Blacktrinians, before this point, didn't mess with transporter technology for the simple reason that they couldn't get it right, and no one they had come across in their conquests had it either. Aradia had seemingly figured it out, and was going to demonstrate by teleporting a cup, but just as the White Hole began to leave she inadvertently knocked something over onto the target sensor.

As a result, when Aradia pressed the last button, she didn't teleport the cup she was planning to, but one of the greatest warriors of the Empire.

Styles woke up some months later, having been in a coma as her brain tried to reorganize itself. When she had enough strength back to go look for the blonde that had indeed proved to be bad luck, Styles found that Aradia had been transferred to the technology development division as their White Hole member…on the condition that she had dyed or gotten rid of her hair.

To the day she was killed by Nigel Hastings, her lungs had never felt right.

That was enough for the White Hole to believe it. And with all that was happening…now was not a good time to re-examine her viewpoints.

She had to be ready. Trouble was coming, and she would have to annihilate it.

Hell, why was she getting distracted by giving any consideration to Nightwalker in the first place? Even if she wasn't being targeted, she was just a human. Another member of that stupid, weak species. Hmmmmf. Maybe that influence was getting in her head as well. Well, that was done. She wouldn't give it any more thought. Nightwalker was on her own.

She would ensure her own survival. That was what she was good at.

Nightwalker tried to keep up a stone front as she headed over to the bar…yet she found herself depressed. But why? These were the bad guys after all. They didn't know anything of loyalty or camaraderie. Hell, they even lacked the basic grouping of the Hive. She should have been waiting for this shoe to drop.

Yet…the fact that she'd been isolated, essentially abandoned to her 'fate', just because her hair color had changed…

Her hand darted out and seized Control Freak, who had been standing nearby.

"Hey, fatty. Since you seem to have a reason to stay close, excluding several more obvious ones that just make me angrier, you may as well try and make yourself useful. Can that damn remote of yours change my hair color back?"

"Eeep!" Control Freak yelped. "Uh, um, I don't know! It's a backup, doesn't have the power of my primary one that got wrecked when this happened…but I'll try, ok?"

"You do that." Nightwalker said, as she let the nerd go. He straightened his jacket, produced his remote, and began fiddling with it.

He seemed to be serious about it, Nightwalker thought as she reached over and grabbed a beer from the wall. Well, maybe it was better to have at least the slightest bit of support, even if…

And then Nightwalker saw just why Control Freak seemed so intent on his remote. Because he was just pressing buttons randomly while he stared at her in his peripheral vision.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" Nightwalker said crossly. Control Freak froze, caught in the act.

"Uh…fair exchange of services?"

KER-SMACK!

* * *

"OK, ENOUGH! WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THE SPECIAL EFFECTS!" Freddy roared. 

_"**Story doctor Bobcat has been reading too much of The Wotch webcomic these days. It's poisoned his pool of comic book sound effects."**_

"Oh." Freddy said. "Henh. Ask a stupid question…"

* * *

"Forget it." Nightwalker said, as Control Freak fled before he was struck again. "I'll handle the problem by myself. Just like I always have to in the end." 

And so Nightwalker sat there, even as the bar continued to move around her, as Slade finally worked out which villains got which weapons, which backup weapons and ammo he wanted to keep, and which ones he wanted to discard. After that was done was an usually swift process of placing the guns and ammo back into the boxes (including Sine's briefcase, at her insistence before she returned to the bar and continued drowning her sorrows at as controlled a rate as she could muster) Slade wanted to keep (which did not include the several bundles of weapons Killjoy had made). Once that was done, the remaining unwanted weapons were loaded into the two remaining crates, and Slade tasked Brick with carrying them in the back to get them out of the way while he prodded the Sorceress to shrink the remaining boxes. Which, after much glaring and a few complaints, the Sorceress actually started doing, grumbling the whole time. She actually got the box down to the size of a Rubik's cube, which Slade slipped in one of his pouches (how he had room for anything else was a mystery, he had at least a half dozen guns, including two shotguns, not to mention grenades and extra ammo and his sword) and told her to move onto the next.

And in a nearby hallway, as Brick walked past lugging the box of 'useless' weapons, there was the sound of a toilet flushing and the Handyman walked out.

"MUCH better…" The Handyman said, as he adjusted his uniform, even as Brick emerged from the room he had put the box in.

"Tom? Is that you?" Brick said.

"No, it's Richard Nixon."

"Slade was looking for you…wait, did you just use the washroom?"

"Yeah…"

"Unattended? Tom, you could have rendered yourself vulnerable to attack."

"What? Please. If anything tried to follow me in there THEY'D be the ones on the ground, if you believe what people tell me about the smells I…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH. NO MORE NEEDED." Brick semi-gagged. "Go speak to Slade."

"Fine, fine." The Handyman said, as he strolled back into the main room and up to the masked mastermind. "Yeah Wilson?"

A gun was abruptly pointing in his face.

"…Yes MR. Wilson?" The Handyman squeaked.

"That's better. Listen carefully." Slade said, and then turned and said something to the Sorceress that proved inaudible to the Handyman, though the fact that the Sorceress' frown somehow deepened even more meant she clearly didn't like it. Handyman REALLY wished Slade would take the gun out of his face while he was talking to someone else, but he wasn't going to complain. "Brick has taken the weapons I have turned down into a room in the back, but just because I find they have too limited a use doesn't mean someone ELSE might. Therefore, I want you to follow him back there and use your tools to solder the crates up. Make them unable to be opened unless one has a gigantic can opener."

"Hey Slade, welding isn't easy, if you wanted a welder you should have recruited THE Welder…"

Slade cocked back the hammer on his gun with a very loud click.

"But then again, what good is a handyman if he can't improvise! I'll skip all the way there!" Handyman said in a tone overloaded with false cheer.

"Just walk. You'll need someone to watch over you, if only so we have some warning if something's coming. Rose, accompany him."

"Ok!" Rose said, as she put down the Uzi she was examining and headed over to the Handyman. Handyman wondered why she was looking it over, she had as many guns already as Slade did…and a look in her eye that made Handyman feel uncomfortable. Handyman decided he'd let her go first as Brick walked by with the other box, Rose walking along behind him…no, more like sashaying along behind him. Handyman gulped, and tried to look at the ceiling and think of London.

"You're certain sending her off on guard duty is wise, Slade-sama?" Kurai asked.

"I think I would know what my daughter is capable of, Kurai." Slade said, as he put another one of the shrunk boxes in another spare pouch, moving around briefly to test the weight of all his extra weapons. No, nothing that would prove discommodious to him yet. Then again, he was just that damn good. "It's a brief duty, and even if there is trouble, she knows exactly how to react to it."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you certain you know your daughter as well as you believe?" Kurai asked, tossing out a small feeler to see if Slade had puzzled out his daughter's 'condition' yet.

"And you would know her how?" Slade replied. Kurai froze, not having expected a counter question, not to mention you couldn't keep lying to Slade Wilson for very long before he picked up on it.

"Uh, um…I believe the term is…uh…er…" Kurai said, as his imperfect grasp of the English picked then to rear up and chomp him on the ass. "Uh…biblically!"

The way Slade's head snapped towards Kurai, his lone eye narrowing to a slit, clued in Kurai that he had picked the mother of all poor synonyms. Kurai sweatdropped so hard he nearly passed out from dehydration.

"That had better DAMNED WELL be a malapropism." Slade growled.

"Uh yes sir! Of course sir! I meant, uh, inadequately! What a mix-up! Whoa!" Kurai babbled. "Surely you possess the pineapple of knowledge of your daughter!"

"Pinnacle." Slade corrected.

"Whatever you say master!"

Slade looked at his apprentice a moment longer, then turned away, not wholly satisfied. When he had a spare moment to devote a thought to something besides the situation he was trapped in, he was going to take a closer look at his apprentice. Somehow Slade thought he wasn't being quite truthful with him.

"There you go." Brick said as he set the box down in the storage room, piled high with other (wooden) boxes of who knew what else, and not very well lit at that. "I will return to the main room unless instruction is given otherwise."

"What? You're not going to stay behind and watch me?" Handyman said.

"What? Hey no, that's my job! You can't fire me! I have tenure! …What's tenure anyway?" Rose said, and giggled.

"You see where I'm worried." The Handyman said.

"True Tom, but if I stay here, then I'd have to listen to her talk as well. And that is something I am not really wanting to do." Brick said, and left.

"…I liked him better when he was dumb." Handyman said, and then looked at Rose. "Are you feeling all right miss?"

"I'm feeling just great! How else would I be feeling?"

"Well, the exact words I am getting to describe my impression are vague, but 'brain' and 'damage' keep popping up…"

"Oh don't be silly! If I had brain damage, I wouldn't be able to shoot that coin out of your hand!" Rose said as she drew her sidearm.

"I DON'T HAVE A COIN IN MY HAND!" Handyman screamed.

"What? Oh, right. Good thing you told me, that coulda be AWWWWWKKKWARD." Rose said, and grinned. "You just do your thingamajiggie, I'll watch you! You have nothing to fear!…Wow, my gun is SO LONG!" Rose said, admiring her revolver. Handyman just stared, and then slowly turned around, wondering if it was too late to convert to Christianity or whatever religion would best aid him in getting out of this situation.

"Hell, not even Christianity." The Handyman said to himself. "Hell, I'll gladly convert to whatever works. Like Mormonism. Or Cthuluism. Yeah, that last one sounds right. Oh Dark Lord Cthulu, I shall write a series of boring, overlong books and inspire an internet meme in the name of thy glory, if you get me out of this!"

"**_THANKS, BUT I ALREADY HAVE ONE OF THOSE."_** Cthulu said as he popped out of the shadows.

"AsdfA ASdfasdAAsdfaALJKAJP!" The Handyman babbled, having forgotten the unfortunate effect that seeing or hearing Cthulu drove one mad.

**_"MY WORK HERE IS DONE. CTHULU AWAY!"_**

"Ugh. Bleh. What?" The Handyman said, instantly back to normal. "Ugh, I'd best get to work, lest I become the victim of something worse then Rose: another one-off joke." The Handyman said, as he pulled out his makeshift welding tools and got to work.

And despite the situation, Handyman soon found himself lost in the task at hand, because for all the jokes made, he WAS a very good handyman, and as a certain mayor had once said, he loved his job more then he loved taffy, and he was a man who liked his taffy.

Of course, that absorption just kept him from noticing what happened.

"Ohhhhhh, a butterfly!" Rose said, as indeed a butterfly flew out of the murk around her. "Pretty! What a pretty butterfly…what is a butterfly doing in here WHO CARES! Come here butterfly! I want to catch you in my butterfly net!" Rose declared, as she began to chase the butterfly around…and right out the door. "Wait, I just realized I don't have a butterfly net!…Oh well I'll improvise…!"

And so Handyman was left alone, as he began to finish welding up one crate.

A footstep sounded.

And Handyman…did nothing, he was too absorbed in his work.

Another footstep.

Handyman kept welding.

A louder one, which sounded a lot more like someone stomping on the ground.

"Gotta avoid the cracks, poor workmanship…" Handyman said to himself.

A loud series of thuds and stomps, as if someone was doing a dance on the floor.

"…Settling pretty loud." The Handyman said, shrugging off the floor noises as if they were natural.

"Psttttttttttttt!"

"Is the crate leaking? Damn, I thought it was airtight."

"PSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!"

"Or maybe a pipe is leaking…"

A brief pause, as a figure in the shadows tore at his hair in frustration, and then he picked up a very small rock that just happened to be there and threw it.

It bounced off Handyman's head.

"Ow! What are you doing Rose…Rose?" Handyman said, as he finally looked up…and realized he was alone.

Another noise.

"Oh dear! A strange noise! Now I could just run out the very obviously open door away from that noise which I know nothing of…or I could examine the noise...hmmmmm, decisions, decisions…" The Handyman said. "Then again, it could be the house settling again…and that could mean water damage. Stupid handyman's code! I have to investigate…"

At least Handyman drew a hammer as he started heading towards the noise, holding it at the ready, as he slowly walked around a group of crates, the boxes consumed in shadows…

"Wow, this is just like back in 'Nam. Except I'm not thousands of miles away because I faked a broken leg." The Handyman said, as he took another step…

And then, with a yowl, a cat flew out of the darkness and right into Handyman's arms.

"AH! AH! What the…oh, it was a kitty! Oh aren't you a pretty kitty!" Handyman said, looking at the cat, which was mostly white except for a patch of yellow on its chest and black on its legs. "What a nice kitty!…Wait…"

"KITTY!" Rose squealed as she ran back in and pulled the cat from Handyman's arms. "Kitty! Kitty!"

"Oh great, you show up now." Handyman commented, as Rose petted the cat, which looked pretty stunned overall, clearly lacking several clues on what was going on.

"Yes, nice kitty…but where did it come from…more to the point, why did it fly into my arms like someone shot out it out of a…" The Handyman said as he turned around and looked behind the crate.

And found, lacking any other description, what could only be considered a spring-loaded cat launcher.

"What the…the hell? How could this be considered a good idea?" The Handyman said. "And that's not even considering the structural failings! Look at this, Rose! First off, they're using a model 36-A spring, which is good for mattresses, but you need a 47-D model if you want anything approaching a good liftoff! Second, they've got this superglued in, something like this needs some flexibility or else it just won't work. You know what I'm talking about Rose?"

"Not really." Said the voice behind him.

"Didn't think so." The Handyman said as he heard the female answer, as he picked the device up and handed it over his back. "Why would you? God, you're such a bimbo. Anyway, whoever made this was obviously a dumb SOB, or possibly a retarded five year old." The Handyman said as he turned around. "Such sloppy work…man…ship…"

And found himself looking at the Sugarman, giant butcher knife in one hand, spring-loaded cat launcher in the other.

"…SCARY!" The Handyman screamed, and ran.

"Hey wait! You were right!" The Sugarman said, in a clearly female voice. "He pretty much is a retarded five year old and SHUT UP BITCH!" The Sugarman yelled, back to his normal voice as he pounded on his head. "Now he's getting away! And he's doing the running thing again! Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut, but no, you just HAPPENED to be named Rose, you just HAD to reply…!"

"Do you two need a moment?" The Handyman said as he came back.

"DIE! Nyuck nyuck!" The Sugarman chortled, as the Handyman screamed and fled, The Sugarman in pursuit.

"Oh crap oh crap, I should have known all these boxes were a bad idea this is gonna be an impenetrable maze and I'm gonna starve to death and THEN they'll be sorry, yeah, they'll say 'Boo hoo! Poor Handyman! He was so sexy and wonderful! How we miss him!' and then an anthropologist will find me in fifty years and will claim I'm a new subspecies of _Homo neanderthalis_ and get a big research grant and…" Handyman stopped for breath…and saw that he'd just run past the door that lead out of the room. "Oh, an easy exit!"

"HEY!" Sugarman yelled as the Handyman sprinted through the door. "Damn it, I should have read the fine print in my contract!" The slasher cursed as he stalked over to the door and tried to give chase at his forced walking speed.

"Hurrah! Now I'm gonna escape and then they'll call me a hero and then-!"

KER-TRIP! ("ARRRRRGHHHHHH!" Went Freddy.)

"Ow, I landed on my keys." The Handyman said, now sprawled face first on the ground. "At least I HOPE those are my keys."

"Finally! Someone listens to the rules!" The Sugarman said as he stalked up the hallway, as Handyman turned over, his eyes wide. "I've got you now! Killing you's gonna be…schweet. Nyuck nyuck nyu-!"

And then the door in front of the Sugarman abruptly flew open, ramming into his face with a sickening thud.

"…Crickey!" The Sugarman said, as he staggered away and then turned around and flopped onto the ground.

"I'm saved! Now everyone will thank me for warning them and…" Handyman trailed off, as he realized the person who had come through the door and stopped the Sugarman was not one of the villains.

The slashers were here, and the first had arrived, as looming over the Handyman, large knife in hand, was…Mad Mark Walters!

"…WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" The Handyman yelled. "What the hell is this? The author couldn't come up with something better? She produced THIS? How am I supposed to know who you are? How are the READERS supposed to know who you are? You can't just go find some random film in some mom and pop videostore's horror section and think it will serve! It's like having an onion for breakfast or requesting _Free Bird_ at a wedding! Sure it COULD work, but it's dumb and unpleasant! I know that there must be BETTER slashers then this, at least from a film someone's heard of besides the author who seems to make it a point of pride to know these things! Then again, this is the girl who thought randomly having her OC sing Limp Bizket in her fanfiction was a good idea-YIPE!" The Handyman yelled as Mad Mark stabbed at him, as Handyman rolled away, the slasher's knife getting stuck in the floor. "You know, normally I'd run screaming again, but my sense of pride is just too damn insulted. TAKE THIS!" The Handyman yelled, as he yanked up and aimed…

…A caulk gun.

Mad Mark laughed nastily, as he yanked his knife out of the floor and lunged…

As Handyman shot the stream of sealant out of the gun and directly into Mad Mark's mouth.

The knife clattered to the floor, as the slasher recoiled, clawing at his throat, as the sealant filled up his mouth and nostrils and then covered his eyes, the special mix Handyman used hardening far faster then the normal material would, as Mad Mark clawed at his face, lunged for Handyman again, and then collapsed, suffocating on the foul glue.

The Handyman blew on the end of the caulk gun like the classic gunslinger from the Wild West.

"Fastest Caulk North, South, and East of the Mississippi!"

"Not the West?" Sugarman said as he shoved the open door that had slammed in the face closed.

"No, that belongs to Tool Man Ted. Curse him, I SHALL BEST HIM ONE OF…THESE…days…crap." The Handyman said as he looked at the once again standing slasher. "BREATHE CAULK!"

And the sealant sprang out again…and hit the ground limply, as what was left in the tube drizzled out on the floor before the Handyman.

"Oh. I'm out. I really need to start carrying reloads." The Handyman said.

"Eeek?" The Sugarman suggested.

"I'll do you one better. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeekkk…!" Handyman screamed as he ran.

"Hah. Run all you want! For this time, I…!"

And the door was shoved open again, slamming Sugarman dead center in his face again.

"I am so sick of doors…" The Sugarman said as he staggered away once more. "CURSE YOU WERNER VON DOOR, THE 17TH CENTURY INVENTER OF THE DOOR!"

"Is that curse in any way accurate?" The Sugarman said in a new prissy voice.

"HELL IF I KNOW!" The Sugarman snapped back, and collapsed…even as new slashers emerged, stepping over the body of their already vanishing fellow, and stalking down the hallway, one after another.

In case you were wondering where Rose Wilson had gone, she had actually taken her new cat friend back to the bar to show him to Slade and to ask if she could keep him.

Fortunately, about two seconds before she reached Slade (and tipped him off that something was not quite right with her) Handyman ran into the bar.

"GUYS GUYS GUYS! THERE WAS THIS LAME GUY FROM SOME MOVIE THAT I SAW ONCE ON A DARE AND THEN SOME TRANSVESTITE IN A TYE-DYE OUTFIT ATTACKED ME AND THEN THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT THE DOOR BEING INVENTED BY A 17TH CENTURY GERMAN MAN AND THEN I…!"

The wall next to Handyman exploded as Slade shotgunned it.

"…Hmmmm. Sights are a bit off." Slade commented. "Well since you're still alive, you were saying something, Handyman?"

"Ugh…bad things are afoot."

"Pheh. Please. What could possible be…" Blackfire said.

As hands reached from behind the bar and grabbed her.

"ARGH!"

"What the…!" Jack yelled as another form rose from behind the bar and swung an axe at him.

As a window smashed open, and a door broke down, and suddenly there were pouring in everywhere, dozens of them.

The killers were here, and there was only so much blood to be spilled.

And as Slade watched all the garish figures erupt into the room, his eye briefly flicking over every corner, anyone who might have been listening would have heard him sigh deeply, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders…even as one of his hands stole down to his shotgun, made a very minute adjustment to it, and then cocked it.

And then Slade snapped the shotgun up and blew Cut-Throat in half.

"Someone's going to pay for all this." Slade said as he cocked the shotgun, ejecting the empty shell, as he swirled around and taught Zipperface the equation that shotgun plus upper body equaled dead slasher.

As Jack grabbed the axe, glaring into the shadowed features of the Hooded Killer from _Urban Legend_.

"Fuckin' rude, mate."

The wood of the axe shattered under Jack's fingers, as Jack formed vicious claws with his other Grimmer hand and slashed it out, blood spraying from inside the hood of the slasher as Jack ripped his/her throat out. It splattered on Jack's face, as he grinned.

"If it bleeds, we can kill it!" He declared, as he grabbed his scotch. Even as the Hooden Killer collapsed, the psychotic Australian finished what was in the bottle and then smashed it on the edge of the bar as another Jack, Jack Sr, lunged at him with a large, bloody hook.

Jack dodged and introduced Jack Sr's face to his broken bottle, followed by introducing his chest to a spiked crushing hand.

"There can be only one!" Jack crowed, and then ripped Jack Sr's head off for good measure.

Even as Blackfire broke most of her grabber's ribs as she elbowed them in the sternum, and even as blood spewed from Marty's mouth, she broke his neck so fiercely she nearly twisted his head off.

"FUCK YOU!" Blackfire shrieked, clearly very unhappy at being grabbed. "You wanna fuck with me, huh? You wanna fuck with Komand'r of Tamaran? I'll show you what happens to those who…!"

The Meateater lunged at Blackfire with his barbeque fork.

And Blackfire ducked under the stab and let him have it with a Blackbolt in the chest. Bits and pieces of what were organs and bones blew out the back of the slasher as he collapsed, his weapon clattering uselessly on the ground as Blackfire hopped over the bar.

"Who else wants some? Who else wants to see what I'm made of! You wanna fuck with me?" Blackfire said, and then cursed in Tamaranian as the Wolf Man stabbed at her with his knife. She grabbed his arm and dislocated it with one swift snap, and then grabbed the Wolf Man by his crude mask and introduced his head to the bar. The fact that the tough wood shattered probably wasn't a good sign as the Wolf Man collapsed.

"Yeah, that's right! Who's the queen now? I'm the queen! The rest of you are just living in my world, and I've decided I don't want you riding my coattails any long-!"

And with the slightest grunting noise that could almost be annoyance, Killjoy whirled as he drew a gun, aiming it at Blackfire.

"Ger?" She whimpered.

And then Killjoy his stance and blew a hole through the forehead of Evelyn, who collapsed behind Blackfire as she jerked. She whirled around.

"…An old woman as a killer? Man who would have thought…" Blackfire began, and then more slashers surged through the door Evelyn had come from, and Blackfire snarled another Tamaranian curse as she avoided another axe swing…and then dove to the ground as Killjoy opened fire with a second gun, as he blew holes through Irving Wallace, 'Richard Nixon', and the Scarecrow (not the DC villain as he had a MINI-scythe instead of fear gas, only to find one shouldn't bring a knife to a gunfight). Blackfire muttered another curse, and then rolled over, grabbed 'Richard Nixon's' knife, and stabbed it down into the masked man's body to make sure he was dead.

"What are you standing around for you two!" Slade snapped as he shotgunned the Eye Surgeon into bloody hamburger. "The faster we get rid of these stupid manifestations the less irritated I'll be later!" Another shotgun blast blew a giant hole in John Rudley.

"Hai, Slade-sama!" Kurai said. "These foolish would be killers are no match for ME!" Kurai snapped, as he slapped his hands together, interlaced his fingers, and then pointed the primary fingers at the shape of a gun at the nearest killer and fired, as the Red Devil abruptly lost his head, his axe falling to the ground. "Rose! Support!"

"Just a minute! Run kitty! It's not safe here!" Rose said, as she gently put her new cat down. The cat looked at her for a moment, and then ran off.

As the fog in Rose's eyes abruptly cleared, as she whirled around and snatched a 9 MM Uzi off her side.

"LET'S ROCK!" She yelled, and opened fire. Bullets tore through Matthew and the New York Ripper, even as Kurai focused another blast in his hands and blew The Motorcycle Killer in half.

"So what should we do?" Adonis asked Dr. Westminster, who had been staring at the struggle until then, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer surreal nature of it all.

Then he reached into his pocket, grabbed his last painkillers, and downed them.

"You can do whatever you want. I'd like to live to see tomorrow." Westminster said, as he focused, snarling, and then bone burst through his right forearm, melding and shifting out in gruesome fashion, until it had completely covered the limb and then some. "This should…"

And then a pickaxe slashed down, and Westminster snapped up his arm and yelled as the end of it buried itself in the bone shield, as Westminster stared at the gas-masked face of Junior, and then, snarling again, he yanked Junior forward, slamming him into the bar as he yanked his shield free of the pickaxe, even as a new blade of bone stabbed out through his left hand, as Westminster rammed it into Junior's kidney as the slasher squealed in agony.

"That hurt me more then it hurt you!" Westminster snapped, as he leapt back, forcing the bone blade out of his hand as he snatched up his M-16. "Let me rectify that situation!"

And with a brief spray of bullets, Junior hit the ground in a spray of blood and gore and did not get up.

"God I hate my job." Westminster said, and turned and opened fire into the crowd of slashers. Within a second a slasher in a clown costume was down on the ground, blood pooling from the extra dozen or so holes Westminster had put in his body.

"He killed Cheezo, Dippo!" Said a second clown-suited slasher.

"Let's get him Bippo!" A third said, as the two charged at Westminster.

Westminster blew Bippo away before his gun jammed, and he cursed and dodged away from Dippo's knife stab, as he tried to get the gun to work again…and then his eyes fell on Slade's special attachment.

"The quality of your products better be accurate Slade!" Westminster cursed, and pressed the firing button, as the device hummed, even as Dippo stabbed again…

And then a bolt of electricity shot out of the attachment and blew Dippo across the entire room, leaving him a smoking ruin on the opposite side.

"…" Westminster said, as he adjusted his hat. "…Ok, I'm satisfied."

"RARUGGGHHHHH!" Gunther Stryker bellowed as he swung a machete at Westminster, as he leapt back and cursed, trying to get his gun unjammed.

The White Hole watched as the attackers came…and then, with a brief, fierce grin on her face, she stood up from where she sat, glancing briefly at her mace…and then leaving it as she walked into the fray.

It didn't take long for trouble to find her, as Stitch Mouth stabbed at her with his knife.

One slashing blow brought the knife into the White Hole's grasp, as well as removed a good part of Stitch Mouth's hand.

"I…am Rebecalnatrac Styilnifanalan! The White Hole! The Terror of Turgferd-III! The Butcher of Bay Rivelto! The Last Gaze of the Gods! And YOU have NO idea how to ACTUALLY USE A BLADE!" The White Hole snarled, and then proceeded to do something so hideously unpleasant to Stitch Mouth with the knife that FF Dot Net would have to invent a few new ratings for me to begin to describe it. Mad Mod, who had been caught between Slade and his apprentices and hence was somewhat protected by their line of fire, was trying to decide what he should do when the White Hole started. Then he decided he would be sick, and was so.

Nightwalker swallowed. Freddy had said he was running the show, and he sure wasn't messing around. Forget one at a time, Freddy was throwing everything at the wall to see what would stick.

As The Tenkiller Murderer came at her with his knife.

Nightwalker fell and rolled off her stool, as she slashed out a leg and tripped the, er, slasher, and as he fell to the ground Nightwalker pulled out one of her guns and used it, the Tenkiller Murderer jerking under the bullets and then going still. Nightwalker leapt up, as Eric attacked, swinging his cane taken from his mother's body, his face hidden behind the clown mask he wore, as Nightwalker juked and dodged backwards as she tried to get the gun up…

Eric smacked it from her hand with a cry.

And then Nightwalker got pissed and kicked him in the testicles, and as he recoiled she yanked out her second gun and emptied it into him. She snarled at the body and threw the empty gun down on him, as she pressed a button on each wrist to arm her gauntlets.

"Anyone ELSE want some?"

And then Nightwalker suddenly found herself floating.

"WHAT?"

As Slausen, a slasher with the highly unusual power of telekinesis, hurled Nightwalker into a nearby wall.

"Miss Sine?" Brick said, as he saw Nightwalker's form violently crash into the wall nearby.

"Forget her! These damn manifestations want her so bad, they can have her." The Sorceress said, as she crouched behind Brick, gasping. "Damn Slade! If he hadn't forced me to use up so much of what I'd regained I could have…now it's just…damn Slade!"

"What can you do?" Brick asked, and then twin slashers came at him, the Logan Twins to be precise. One had an axe, the other a machete.

And Brick had his hands, as he grabbed both slashers and slammed them together with bone breaking impact. He let them go, and with a disturbed look on his face brought his foot up and then down in a brutal stomp, and the Logan Twins were no more.

"Thanks." The Sorceress said.

"You want to thank me? Help Miss Nightwalker. I really should have said something earlier. She doesn't deserve this."

"Ugh, you are supposed to be practical in these situations, not sentimental…" The Sorceress began, until Brick gave her a look. "Fine, if it keeps your wall of muscle between me and them. I still have a few tricks." The Sorceress said, as she traced the air. A glyph appeared, just like when she had cast her shield before and when she had used her shrinking spells on the boxes, except this one was glowing red. "From the hand of Surtr, BEGONE!"

And the Sorceress plunged her hand through the glyph and a fireball burst from her hand, flying out and catching Slausen as he burst into flame, flailing about briefly as Nightwalker regained her feet and senses, and with a snarl of her own she let Slausen have it with a spray of orbs, blowing his fire-weakened body to pieces as his wax mask and wig fell to the ground and burned.

"I can maybe do that twice more. You better have made it worth it Brick." The Sorceress said…as Brick swatted the Burned Gypsy, a giant himself, away like he was a fly. The slasher hit the wall with a messy wet sound and fell, as Slade turned around and emptied two shotguns blasts into his chest to make sure he didn't get back up.

"I do my best, m'lady." Brick said, as the Sorceress stared.

"Ack! It's my horror movie collection brought to life!" Control Freak gasped as the slashers poured in. "…Oh I hope Slade didn't hear me say that." Control Freak said, as he grabbed his new gun and added its own voice to the many shots already exploding through the bar…but of course he hadn't listened to a word Nightwalker had said and swiftly ran out of ammo with his shots having hit nothing. "Awaqk! Why do the ones who ruin my fun always have to be accurate?"

Giggling madly, Harry Standling ran at Control Freak, his axe swinging.

"Ack! Get away!" Control Freak yelled, as he tried to run backwards…and then fell on his ass. "AHHHHHH!" He screamed, as he pulled out his remote and pressed a random button.

And found Harry suddenly running backwards. Literally, as his actions reversed themselves.

"………..Of course." Control Freak said as he got up. "These are from movies! Of course my remote can command them! HAHAHAHAHA! I'M IN CONTROL! I'M IN-!"

Giggling madly, Harry Standling ran at Control Freak…again.

"Hah! Déjà vu!" Control Freak said, and aimed the remote…

But nothing happened.

"…Eek. I forgot how small the battery is in this thing." Control Freak said, as Harry Standling got in close, his axe swinging…again.

"GAH!" Control Freak yelled as he jumped to the side, doing an immensely awkward roll that made it look amazing that he didn't just fall flat on his face, and as Harry whirled towards him Control Freak ignited his four-bladed laser sword and swung out. Harry was caught in mid-cackle, and fell to the ground in several burned pieces.

"Mental note: survive now, gloat later…ok maybe a little more: hahahaha! As soon as my battery recharges itself a bit I am sur-YIKES!" Control Freak yelled as a blade slashed out and carved across his laser-blade handle, abruptly shorting it out and nearly costing him a few fingers. The geek supreme screamed and ran, barely dodging another slash as he fled from Egger's Mother, her arm scythe nearly having caused him to suffer abrupt weight loss as she barely missed eviscerating him with her second attack.

And on a final note, one should know that all these events happened roughly simultaneously in the twenty seconds after the slashers had attacked.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" The Handyman yelled as he ran around frantically among the chaos. "They're everywhere! And…ALL OF THEM ARE AS UNKNOWN AS THE FIRST! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!" The Handyman screamed. "They couldn't bring back some of the better known names? Instead you just keeping tossing new name after new name on the screen assuming the readers will have some clue what's going on? What's the point? These guys are only from movies in the most tentative sense! No one knows most of their films! And those who do really need a life! I mean, slashers on the surface supposed to be dangerous…!"

And Gus Gilbert swung his hammer at Handyman.

Who ducked, and in a graceful motion snatched the hammer from the slasher's hand and let Gilbert have it on the side of the head. Gilbert fell, as the Handyman drew another hammer from his belt and rained down blows on the thrashing body until it was a bloody, unmoving mess.

Handyman stared at his now gore-soaked weapons.

"…ARGH! It's worse then just tossing out random names! It's causing out of characterness! Everything about this scene is wrong!" Handyman screamed as he ran among the carnage again. "We are not helpless teenagers engaged in various levels of debauchery! Why would anyone send these kind of horror characters after us! They're everywhere! They outnumber us ten to one! Why is that fact NOT MAKING A BIT OF DIFFERE-!"

And then Handyman crashed into the bar, literally, as the momentum of his impact caused him to flip over the side and sprawl onto the floor beyond.

"Owwwwwwwwwwww…no fair, the previews indicated these was supposed to happen to Slade…"

"Uh…" Adonis said, as he watched the butchery. "I'll just cheerlead, ok? Yeah, yeah, rah rah rah, GO TEAM!" And for those of you who have never seen a man in a giant robot suit dance with pom-poms…just be grateful.

"…Ok…." Dr. Light said, situated near Mad Mod and hence also somewhat protected, as he tried to fight down the roiling in his guts. "You've seen that they can be killed. Most of your power is in your suit. You can do this Arthur. You can finally be known as something a little more…though one must ask how you could be known as anything less." Dr. Light said, as he concentrated, feeling the circuits hum in his arms, as his hands exploded with radiant power. "Now I shall show them why they should have stayed in the shadows-!"

And then, pitchfork stabbing at him, the Beekeeper charged at Dr. Light.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Dr. Light screamed, as he turned and ran, diving under the nearest table.

"…shameful, really." Mad Mod said, and took careful aim with his lone gun and fired. The Beekeeper recoiled back, having been hit in the shoulder…as Kurai blew him apart with another small blast, even as Rose began firing into the next slasher…

As her gun clicked dry.

"Shit!" Rose cursed, as they swarmed at her and Kurai. "KURAI GIVE ME SOME COVER!"

"EASIER SAID THEN DONE!" Kurai snapped back, as the winged slasher from the last of Rose's ammo, White Face, swung his axe at Kurai. Kurai dodged and drove his palm into White Face's simple white mask, feeling a crunch beneath his hand, but even as he did that a knife slashed out, cutting a small piece of meat out of his shoulder, courtesy of Jane the Psycho Nurse, even as the child-like Miho jumped on Kurai's back and tried to drive his scalpel into Kurai's neck. "ROSE! WOMAN! EXPEDIENCY! IMPORTANT!"

"DON'T CALL ME WOMAN!" Rose fired back, not a trace of the previous airheadedness in her voice, as she brought up an MP5K submachine gun and opened fire. The bullets White Face didn't catch with his chest, Jane (the Psycho Nurse) caught with her face, even as Miho drove his scalpel into Kurai's collarbone. Kurai yelled in pain, and then grabbed the small form and hurled him over his head, and even as Miho flew Kurai charged up another blast and blew him to pieces in mid-air.

"I didn't know they were allowing midgets into the job these days!" Kurai cursed as he grabbed the scalpel and yanked it out with a snarl. "Oh I'm sorry, is that politically incorrect now? What do they like to be called?"

"Who cares?" Rose retorted, as she ejected the clip to take a look of the number of bullets: only 11 or so. She'd held down the trigger too long, damn, as she snapped the clip back in.

As more slashers came for them.

"WHY THE HELL ARE SO MANY TARGETING US?" Rose yelled, as she aimed her gun and fired the last of the bullets, reducing The Prowler's chest to a shattered wreck.

"I don't know!" Kurai retorted, as he realized he needed a bit more time to gather himself, and with more slashers on him he improvised, grabbing up the prowler's pitchfork and driving it straight through Bobbi's throat. "Why the hell are you asking me…"

And then Kurai remembered.

_"NO SEX. Sex kills you."_

"Oh now that's just not fair." Kurai said, as he realized his first time had painted as much of a bullseye on him and Rose as the atmosphere was purposely putting on Nightwalker. Of course so many of the slashers were attacking them! IT WAS THE DAMN RULES!

"YOU STUPID INFERIOR YANK FILMMAKERS!" Kurai yelled, as he gathered another surge of energy and blew the Headhunter's machete wielding arm off. Surprisingly, the slasher kept coming, slamming into Kurai and knocking him to the ground as he tried to crush the Japanese warrior's throat, as Rose dropped the submachine gun she was using and pulled out her long revolver. BOOM! Raymond found a hole sprouting in his head, while his son Andrew found two more appearing in his chest, both monster-masked slashers collapsing among their peers, probably wishing they'd worn armor, as Kurai bellowed and blew the Headhunter off him so violently he nearly vaporized him. Unlike the arm wound, that kept the demonic creature down.

"When I'm done here, I think I shall go burn down Tinsel To…" Kurai trailed off as he saw who was coming next, a big one, tall AND wide, dressed in a policeman's outfit.

"Rose! Shoot that one!" Kurai yelled as he got up, as Rose saw him as well. She grinned and aimed.

BLAM BLAM BLAM! The last three bullets in her gun fired out, slamming into the big one's chest.

He did not go down. In fact, he kept walking, even as unpleasant liquids (was that blood? It didn't seem like blood…) began leaking from the holes.

"_NANI?"_ Kurai said as the giant slasher kept coming. "Stupid woman! No wonder I always had to do all the work! HAI!" Kurai yelled, as he charged up what he could muster and fired it out, blowing a small but notable hole in the slasher's stomach.

He staggered back a bit again…and then kept coming. As Kurai gaped, he realized he could see right through the slasher from where he'd hit him.

"What are YOU?" Kurai said.

"Cordell." Matt Cordell said, as he drew his own gun and put two bullets in Kurai's chest.

Kurai, spun around from the impact, stared in confusion at Rose…and then Cordell, once a living cop, now a powerful and vengeful zombie, put another round in his back, knocking him to the ground.

"OH SHIT!" Rose said, having been too surprised to reload, and dove for cover at Cordell fired at her, bullets tearing into the ground behind her.

In a better situation, Slade may have noticed the trouble his daughter was in, but at the time he was too busy with his own troubles, though in his case the trouble might be how long he could keep his composure under the endless assailment of stupidity he was facing…including the badly burned face of a slasher dressed in a classic Uncle Sam outfit, who was charging at Slade with a very sharp-ended flagpole.

"DIE YOU COMMIE BASTARD!" 'Uncle' Sam Harper yelled.

Slade decided putting a giant hole in Uncle Sam's chest was the better option. Unfortunately for Uncle Sam, the fact that Slade had a higher caliber weapon then Rose did, plus the fact he didn't seem as solidly built as Matt Cordell, resulted in just that with a spray of rotten flesh and blood tacked on top of it.

Slade ejected the empty shell.

"I must say this, I may have committed many crimes under the law system of this country, but treason was not one of them." Slade said.

Snarling, Uncle Sam reared up.

Slade blew his head apart. That kept him down.

Slade ejected the shell again, as his eyes flicked back up the crowd still coming at him, albeit a bit slower then the one that had been rushing his apprentices, as Slade aimed…

CLICK.

Slade looked at his shotgun. He'd miscounted the shots? When was the last time he'd done that?

Realizing he was out of ammo, a cackle of various laughs swept the group, as Slade's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"You can't beat us!" One of then laughed. "There's a hundred of us and only one you!"

And then the slashers charged.

Slade calmly put the empty shotgun down on a table.

And yanked out a DAO-12 Striker shotgun from behind him. A semi-automatic shotgun with a barrel of fresh ammo, better known as a 'Street Sweeper'.

Fire erupted from the barrel, as Terry's upper body exploded.

"Ninety-nine…" Slade said calmly, and then fired again and again, his gun blazing death with no more need to eject shells. Ironically, the second slasher he blew away was also called Terry, but she died as quickly as the first. The Mute Killer joined her on the ground, half his head missing. Craig found his body dripped as much blood as the dorm he had stalked as Slade blew him in half. Jerry Blake found there was no room for daddy as Slade ventilated his chest.

"If this wasn't so irksome to begin with I might have gotten a visceral charge out of it…" Slade commented.

As the Skier lunged at him, stabbing his ski pole at Slade's throat.

Slade jerked his body to the side and lunged, getting in under the slasher's weapon as he rammed his Striker gun up against the Skier's ribs.

"Like I said." Slade commented, and blew the Skier in half as well.

"Whoever even began to consider these concepts of worthy of spending a cent on should be the one's I'm shooting!" Slade said as he straightened up.

As the Psycho Scuba Diver fired a harpoon at Slade.

Slade snapped his head to the side as the projectile zipped past him, impaling in the wall just above Dr. Light as he started coming out of hiding, as he screamed and hid under his table again.

"I rest my case." Slade said, and returned fire. He didn't miss, as the Psycho Scuba Diver's bloody remains joined the others on the floor.

As Syd Snider stepped up. Slade frowned under his mask at that slasher's hideously maimed features. Somehow Slade had the feeling this one wouldn't go down as easily.

He fired anyway, nearly blowing Snider's right arm off. Snider staggered back a bit, then lunged at Slade.

Boom! A fist sized hole sprouted in Snider's chest. Boom! A huge chunk of meat was sheered off his right thigh. Boom! Snider's guts erupted from his stomach, but he kept coming, as Slade's eye narrowed. BOOM! The top of Syd's head exploded, but he was still coming, his long knife in hand, as Slade pulled the trigger again…

Click.

Count wrong once, shame on you. Count wrong twice…

"…DAMN IT." Slade said, as Syd stabbed at him.

And Brick's fist came down, crushing the resilient zombie into a pancake.

"Some of them are annoying that way." Brick commented, and stepped away, leaving Slade to stare at the mess of flesh the slasher had once been.

"That doesn't even begin to…"

The long curved knife slashed at Slade's head.

The Striker clattered to the ground as Slade drew his sword in one swift motion and blocked the attack, as he stared into the wax mask of Vincent, the expertly made disguise covering up Vincent's own facial disfigurement.

"…As much as I loathe it, I actually recognize you." Slade said, as he shoved Vincent away. "But only because I felt such disgust that Hollywood would soil Vincent Price's name by remaking his film into a piece of garbage starring an empty headed heiress."

Vincent responded by drawing another knife.

"Because if your industry isn't making garbage, it's tarnishing the films that actually succeeded!" Slade said, as Vincent slashed at him and sparks flew from their weapons.

As Puppet King, lost among all the warring bodies, finally managed to get his gun pointed up.

"Now I…!" He said, and fired.

Blowing him head over heels as he fired into the wall and lost his gun, all in one fell swoop.

"Uhhhhhh…" Puppet King said, as he got up. "Why can't anything go my…"

And then a giant stone axe swung down at him.

"Mommy." Puppet King said, and then wailed as he was smashed through the air and flew across the bar to crash face first into another wall, as the Caveman Hermit swung his axe up, found another target, and lashed out with the heavy, sharp weapon.

The White Hole caught it.

"You call that savage?" The White Hole said.

The stone blade shattered as she crushed it in her grip.

"THIS IS SAVAGE!" The White Hole snarled, as she lunged in and sank her teeth into the Hermit's shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone as it bellowed in sudden pain, as the White Hole clamped down on the neck and arm of the slasher and simultaneously bit, sliced, and yanked, as she tore the slasher in a 30 degree line, ripping him into two at an angle in a gigantic spray of blood which soaked her.

She licked her face as her eyes gleamed.

"Amateurs." She hissed, almost amused.

As Matthew (not the same Matthew, like Terry there was two) attacked, swinging his shovel at the alien.

She ducked that blow, and as the weapon swung overhead she charged in, grabbing Matthew by his arm and yanking it off in one quick jerk. Matthew screamed, blood gouting from the dismembered limb, as the White Hole slashed down and sliced Matthew's leg off at the knee. More blood sprayed, as Matthew fell…right into the White Hole's arms, as she lifted him overhead and then tore him apart in two swift movements, the body thudding into the floor in another spray of blood and viscera.

"If this is what humans consider to be frightful, no wonder they're so pathetic." The White Hole said, as she shook blood from her body…

As a cross was thrust in her face, as Father Jonas found his chosen victim (well, the creature he was going to save by destroying in his mind) was far more formidable then expected.

"GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN!" He howled.

The White Hole looked in amusement at the priest, and then she grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him so hard his flesh and spine tore themselves apart as she rotated him at the waist 180 degrees.

"As you wished." The White Hole said to the now back of the head of the quite dead zealot slasher's corpse.

As an arrow flew through the air, impaling itself into the White Hole's shoulder armor, the point actually make it all the way through and piercing through the White Hole's skin, as she blinked at the sudden sting and then turned her head at the shooter.

As Cherub cocked another arrow and fired, the shot zipping through the air right at the White Hole's face.

She jerked back as it struck her, staggering just a bit…

And then looked back up, the arrow impaled through her eye patch, as blood began to run down her face. But not deep enough. Far from deep enough, as an arrow was more like a sword then a bullet, and her Blacktrinian muscle and bone had treated it as such, as she reached up.

"Should have aimed for the remaining eye." The White Hole said, as she yanked the arrow out, more blood flowing from the wound…but she barely seemed concerned at all, as she grinned, a grin demons from hell would have trouble matching.

Cherub began nocking another arrow.

As the White Hole turned, seized Father Jonas's head, and ripped it off, the head yanking free of the corpse as the spinal column trailed after it (Sub-Zero would be proud), and with a terrifying shriek the White Hole let the priest's body finally fall to the ground as she hurled the head and spine directly at Cherub.

It impaled through him even as he began pulling back his bowstring, and he staggered back himself, his featureless mask not hiding his surprise at being struck down by such a bizarre weapon…

As the White Hole pounced on him, and Cherub found he hadn't even BEGUN being struck down, as the White Hole tore into him with a ferocity no animal on earth could match.

"Fuck. She's actually making me look bad." Jack commented.

And then Jack was suddenly jumped by a very large and extraordinarily ANGRY German Shepard, nearly knocking him down as it leapt for his throat.

"ARGH! FUCK! I know this genre of horror was going to the dogs, but this is bloody ridiculous!" Jack yelled, as she tried to keep the dog away from him long enough to charge his hands into something more effective…and then he was jumped by a shrieking, deformed girl, stabbing at him with a butcher knife.

"ARGH! FUCK YOU!" Jack snarled as the blade took a swipe across his arm, even as the dog tried to keep ripping his throat out. Jack staggered around, as Julia, the deformed girl, shrieked and stabbed at him again…

As Jack twisted and let the dog take it instead. It let out a canine shriek of pain, as Jack kicked Julia away and hoisted the dog up.

"Bad doggie. Play dead." Jack said. Just what he did to the (admittedly rather nasty to him) dog I will not tell you for the sake of dog lovers, but it was dead at his feet at the end. "Great. Now I'm going to get hate mail from PETA."

Julia dove at Jack again, screaming.

Jack punched her as hard as he could, and as she staggered back he focused hard and his left hand reformed, turning into a whirling circular saw.

"Couldn't make you any uglier anyway!" Jack yelled, as she rammed the saw into her gut and began slicing through and up, blood erupting and soaking his arms, chest, and face, as Julia let out another gurgling scream and finally collapsed backwards, thoroughly vivisected.

"Don't forget who was the original mad bastard on this show." Jack said, as he reformed his hand and looked for someone else to kill.

In contrast to the White Hole and Jack's rages, who were actually out-goring the slashers handily and easily, Killjoy was almost serene, a gun in each hand as he carefully watched his back while picking off his chosen targets (Slade had warned not to duel-wield guns, but that was directly mostly towards amateurs, who didn't understand that firing a gun in your weaker hand often led to your bullets constantly missing the target, not to mention the trouble of such things as shells ejecting into your field of vision. Killjoy was too good to fall subject to such problems, and he was ambidextrous anyway) in short bursts of firepower.

Four rounds blew apart the head of Tara, who probably should have invested in better protection then an old hag mask. The gun in his right hand clicked dry, and Killjoy expertly ejected the clip even as Black Hood ran at him, swinging back his axe as Killjoy lowered the other gun in his left hand and let it go slack in his fingers so he could properly grasp the new clip, sliding it from one of his pockets and slowly pushing it into the other gun.

Black Hood slashed at Killjoy's head.

And in mid-swing Killjoy, without looking, calmly lifted his left hand gun and put a bullet between Black Hood's eyes. The slasher collapsed as Killjoy finished pushing in the clip, racked the slide, and turned his eyes forward again.

As his new foe approached, a young man dressed as a baseball player…no, it wasn't Lil' Slugger again. This one was bigger, his baseball outfit ash white, his skin a dark dull gray, a long scar on his left cheek, as he swung up a metal baseball bat…that had a buzzsaw fused to one end.

At least he had a fairly unique weapon, as Killjoy aimed and fired.

The bullet went right through him…but not in the same way. There was no flesh and blood explosion. Instead, it was like the bullet went through a floating cloud of dust…dust that resumed the original shape. It was like Killjoy had shot a ghost.

The assassin cocked his head at this fact.

As the slasher swung his buzzsaw bat out, and Killjoy ducked backwards, feeling the air part under the razor sharp teeth of the blade, and he knew he wouldn't be allowed the same blessing.

* * *

"Wait wait wait. This was an army of slashers. What's a spirit doing in there?" The lieutenant asked Freddy. 

"Because the film I got him from was called _Devon's Ghost!_ Therefore, he must be a ghost!" Freddy replied, watching the carnage intently.

"…Did you actually check this film to confirm if he actually WAS a ghost or did you just assume that…?"

"QUIET! I MADE MY CHOICE! It's not like horror films have a great history of being accurate in the first place!"

"You mean like the several contradictions in your series from all the different writers?"

"I SAID QUIET!"

* * *

Killjoy dodged away from Devon and emptied his remaining bullets in the left gun into him, but the bullets passed through him like he was water, as Devon followed mercilessly, swinging his bat with deadly intent. Killjoy ducked and dodged, and fired three shots through Devon's head. He may as well have fired them into the floor, for all the good they did. 

The buzzsaw grazed Killjoy's chin, and even as the blood began to flow he dropped his useless gun and reached into his coat. The next bat swing met a large hunting knife, as Killjoy deflected the shot and slashed Devon's throat. The knife phased through the spirit (who may very well have been a flesh and blood slasher in his actual movie, had it not been for Freddy's laziness), and Devon struck back, burying his bat in Killjoy's side, the blade biting through the armor he wore. Killjoy's only reaction was a mild grunt, as he rolled with the blow, spun up, and drew a Desert Eagle from inside his coat. The extremely high caliber gun was so loud to even be heard above the roar of the bar, but its shots proved as ineffective as the others.

"Sorceress!" Brick said, his ears drawn by the gunshots, as he saw how useless they were against Devon.

"What!" She snapped.

"I think your spells might be valuable here!" Brick said, as Devon slashed his bat at Killjoy again, the assassin ducking as the buzzsaw blade snipped off the end of his ponytail.

"And why should I bother?"

"It would be rather difficult for me to provide defense for you against a threat I cannot touch." Brick said, as Killjoy backflipped away as Devon buried his bat where the assassin had just been. The Sorceress' face scrunched up, but she saw the wisdom in Brick's words.

"Fine. But only for that reason." The Sorceress said, as Killjoy fired his remaining shots into Devon, with the usual no effect, as she traced a pattern on the air, and another glyph lit up. "MAGIC MISSILE!"

And a green blast of energy flew from the glyph, and as Devon charged in and swung at Killjoy again it struck him. With a soundless yell, the made-to-be spirit was blasted apart and vanished, his weapon clattering to the ground.

"…There's actually an incantation called MAGIC MISSILE?" Brick said incredulously.

"You humans are accurate in the strangest places." Sorceress replied. Killjoy glanced over at the pair, and Brick gave him a hesitant, almost shy wave.

And Killjoy snatched up the buzzsaw bat and hurled it at Brick, the tube whirling around as Brick jumped in surprise…as the bat flew past him and buried its buzzsaw end in the ski-masked face of The Wolf, who had almost snuck up on Brick. The slasher born from rumor collapsed in turn.

Brick stared, not sure what to say, as Killjoy drew another clip of ammo from his coat and slammed it in.

"…Baby…" Control Freak said, hearts in his eyes as he saw the Sorceress perform one of the most famous magic attacks from perhaps the most famous role playing game of all time.

And then Egger's Mother tried to gut him again, and he screamed and ran,

As Junior (yes, there was another Junior, just like there was another Terry and another Matthew), eyes wild, came at Blackfire, laughing in a joyful mania, his chainsaw roaring as the alien jerked aside, the chainsaw carving into the wall as Blackfire jumped back a few feet (her flight powers were as muted as her Blackbolts…but she hadn't survived merely on her powers in certain spots…)

"Oh boy! PP! Prime Pussy!" Junior laughed, as he pulled his chainsaw free and lunged again.

Blackfire threw a Blackbolt, or rather a grape-sized purple ball that would be called a Blackbolt the same way the stapedius would be called a muscle.

But it hit its target: the snarling chain on the chainsaw.

Which snapped, the momentum of the whirling mechanism lashing the chain out and carving a bloody line across Junior's eyes.

"AIYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YOU BITCH!" Junior screamed, dropping his weapon as he grabbed at his bleeding face, as he shrieked again and charged forward to kill the bitch who'd hurt him…

As Blackfire slipped around him, laced her hands together, and with every bit of strength she still had brought them slamming into the small of Junior's back. A dull crack sounded from the blow, and with a confused, pained whimper Junior collapsed on his face.

Blackfire stepped over his body, and with a disgusted snort she lifted and then stomped her foot down on the back of Junior's neck, producing another dull, wet crack.

"Prime? You better believe it." Blackfire said, and spat on the corpse.

You'd think from the last few scenes, that the attack was being repelled with relative ease. However, that wasn't the case for everyone…

The machete buried itself in the M-16 as Westminster stumbled back, as Gunther Stryker bore down on him, the slasher hissing beneath his Frankenstein mask.

"Rather persistent, aren't you?" Westminster commented, as he wrenched the gun to the side, knocking the slasher off balance as he backhanded him with his bone arm shield. Blood exploded from beneath the mask, as it was shifted away, and then with a snarl Stryker yanked his machete free as he staggered back, grabbing his mask and yanking it off.

"HOLY!" Westminster said, as he gazed upon Stryker's hideous features: An albino face with red eyes, a nose that looked more like two more noises mashed together, and a giant mouth without an upper lip that was filled with four oversized, sharp, curved fangs. "You looked better with the mask on!"

"GRAGGHHHHHHHH!" Stryker howled as he lunged and slashed with his machete, and Westminster realized he'd been a bit too stunned by the face under the mask and had left himself open…

So his defense was sub-par, as he got his bone shield up in time for the blade to strike the edge and dig deeply into it. Westminster hissed in pain, as he tried to get his M-16 up and use it as a bludgeon to get Stryker away. It worked…too well, as Stryker's blade has slammed into his shield at an angle and as the slasher yanked away he broke a fair piece of bone off of it. Westminster yelled as the pain tore through his arm, like getting the limb broken and stabbed at the same time. Snarling in glee, Stryker swung back the blade and slashed it at Westminster's head.

As the bone-controlling stranger ducked, the blade knocking his hat off, and then snapped forward, shoving his damaged bone shield up under the slasher's chin and yanking it to the side, as he used the now sharp end of the shield to tear Stryker's throat out.

"A good soldier uses whatever is at hand." Westminster said, as Stryker staggered back, blood gouting from his throat, as Westminster brought his gun and made a few more quick movements as he finally got it unjammed. "But I do prefer the classics."

And an explosion of bullets ripped Stryker apart.

"Ow, DAMN IT…" Westminster said, shaking his arm, as he looked at the wrecked shield: he could try and grow some more bone but damn if he didn't feel pretty limited already…

And the slashers weren't done yet, as Groucho Marx (or rather a slasher wearing a mask of the famous comedian) came at him with a long, thin sword. Westminster snapped the gun up and pulled the trigger…and encountered another problem: he had used up all his ammo in the last burst. "Oh my life."

Westminster recoiled backwards, dodging the sword…even as another beast came after him, an overgrown man-child that lunged at Westminster with powerful hands. Westminster found himself running backwards, trying to avoid both 'Groucho Marx' and Humongous as he tried to find a new clip.

And then, by sheer chance, he sensed movement behind him, and barely got out of the way as The Miner burst out through the doors behind him and swung his pickaxe at Westminster's back. If Stryker hadn't already knocked it off, that move would have cost Westminster his hat as the pickaxe barely missed his head, as the slasher stumbled past the newcomer. Westminster swung his body back up, rammed the butt of his weapon into The Miner to knock him aside, and then fled back through the door the Miner had come from, the three slashers in pursuit.

If Westminster was having a bad time, Nightwalker was having a horrendous one, as she tried to fend off the giant crushing hands of The Stranger, who had gotten the drop on her when she'd dove out of the way shortly after Slausen had been dealt with and Killjoy's bullets had found Devon a disagreeable target, deciding to hit whatever was behind him, which would have included Nightwalker had she not moved. But she moved right into the fire, as the Stranger had grabbed her as she'd jumped up and started strangling her, powerful hands crushing her throat…

The Stranger said nothing, staring into her face with creepily intense eyes, as Nightwalker gagged and thrashed, unable to position her gauntlets properly to fire, black was dancing on her vision, here she was, the dumb blonde, getting the life choked out of her FUCK THAT! If the White Hole couldn't choke her out, some fictional killer wasn't going to! She knew where her equipment was, her hands still worked, as she clawed at her belt but her vision was going dark the muscles starting to go numb needed air she wasn't just being chocked she WAS choking…

"CHOKE ON THIS!" Nightwalker somehow rasped out as she yanked out one of her orbs and snapped her arm up, shoving the small globe right into the Stranger's mouth and then immediately snapping her hand back and slamming it under his jaw, causing his teeth to close on it and break it.

As the heavily compressed glue exploded out, and the Stranger recoiled as it erupted out his mouth, going down into his throat and lungs as he staggered, collapsed, and thrashed on the ground, the foul adhesive vomiting from his mouth and nose.

Sucking air in through her aching throat, Nightwalker stepped over the body, aimed, and fired an orb through his ear and what lay beyond, as his thrashing stopped.

"Stick to the real blondes." Nightwalker said.

"SINNER!" Shrieked The Psycho Priest as he stabbed at Nightwalker with his knife.

Nightwalker shot him with an inferno orb, as the false holy man shrieked as he burst into flames.

"Cast the first stone and all that." Nightwalker said, and followed it up with an explosive orb that blew the slasher to pieces. She reached down, pulled twin new ammo clips from her belt, and even as she snapped her arms up her gauntlets opened, ejecting the old, expended clips as she snapped the new ones in.

John Doe lunged in, stabbing his weapon at her.

Nightwalker grabbed him by the wrist, stopping the needle that had been aimed at her about four inches from her eye.

"Huh, hypodermic needle. Don't see that too often." Nightwalker said, and broke John Doe's wrist with one harsh twist even as she did a knife-edge chop with her other hand, smashing the needle and the rat poison it contained. Even as John screamed and started to yell a curse, Nightwalker drove her fist into his face, snapping a quick combo of hard jabs that sent broken teeth spraying before she slashed out her foot and violently kicked Joe Doe in the gut. As he doubled over, Nightwalker grabbed his hair and flipped over him, and as she landed on her feet she yanked backwards as hard as she could, kneeling and bringing John Doe's neck down on her knee in one swift, violent movement. Even as his neck broke on her leg, she slammed her gauntlet down onto his throat, crushing his windpipe. With a firm shrug, she pushed the body aside.

"Then again, you don't see that either." Nightwalker said, as she stood back up.

And turned into another powerful hand seizing her by the throat, as Nightwalker looked in shocked surprise into the undead eyes of The Nun.

Then she rammed her gauntlet into the blasphemous slasher so hard the firing tube pierced through the nun's eye.

"And forgive me my trespasses." Nightwalker said, and blew the Nun's head apart, the body collapsing. "Though I don't much feel like forgiving anyone in turn, but I'm sure you understand my reasons."

And a whip lashed around Nightwalker's bloodsoaked arm, yanking it up as her head jerked in the direction of the strike…showing her her attacker: an inquisition priest right out of 1600's Salem.

"Oh why do I seem to be drawing these types?" Nightwalker asked.

"WITCH! WITCH!" Count Christian von Meruh shrieked as he yanked on his whip, trying to pull Nightwalker onto his cruel looking knife.

Nightwalker dug in her heels, stopping herself.

"SLASHER! LAME!" Nightwalker yelled back, and yanked as hard as she could, Meruh caught off guard by her surprising strength as she pulled him at her, even as she spun and slammed a powerful roundhouse across his face. The 'witch-hunter' staggered back, his whip dropping to the ground, and Nightwalker emptied her orb launchers into him, shattering his body with her normal impact ammo. He fell to his knees, blood leaking from his mouth.

"Infernal demonspawn…" He whispered.

Nightwalker drew her last gun and added several bullets for good measure.

"They always did pick the ones least suited for those jobs." Nightwalker said, sheathing her gun.

She sensed movement behind her, and whirled around.

Nothing directly behind her, though the battle continued to rage all over the bar…

As a pair of massive hands clamped down on her shoulders, and even as she yelled in surprise she felt her feet being lifted off the ground, as she screamed and jerked her head behind her, looking into the deformed, inbred face of Saw-Tooth, as One-Eye lifted her feet up due to his dwarf nature and Three-Finger grabbed at her, pulling her gun free even as he trailed his maimed hand over her body. Nightwalker thrashed, but she was unable to get free, Saw-Tooth had her in a firm grip and now with Three-Finger and One-Eye on her she couldn't get any leverage and where had they come from they'd literally popped out of nowhere like they'd…teleported…

Yeah, she'd really made a wrong turn here, as Three-Finger produced a long knife and began carving.

Oblivious to the rest of the bar, the White Hole was having the time of her life, even as Luthor the Geek tried to bite her with his oversized metal dentures. She almost let him, to show him the folly of trying to taste the napalm-like substance Blacktrinian blood was…but in the end she settled for grabbing him, seizing his jaw, and ripping it right off his face. Even as his eyes went as wide as saucers, she tossed the bloody piece aside and rammed her clawed hand up through the mass of gore she'd made, the talons exploding through the top of Luthor the Geek's skull. She yanked her hand from the mess and tossed the body aside, even as Zachary Malius came at her, his white albino skin setting off his pitch black eyes…

"No loitering." He said, as he swung his full sized scythe at her.

The White Hole met it in mid-slash with a kick, breaking the blade right off the weapon.

"No second chances." The White Hole retorted, and slashed out with her claws, her arms blurring as she ripped through flesh and bone like it was paper, slashing and carving at speeds hard for the eye to follow.

She concluded with one extra-vicious X-shaped slash that ended in a kneeling stance, as Malius literally fell to pieces before her, more blood spraying and soaking her form.

"No equal." The White Hole said in frenzied satisfaction, and whirled up as she heard the roaring buzz of a chainsaw.

Exactly why The Dean tried to kill the White Hole was unknown. She wasn't exactly his type of target, as he charged at her, chainsaw whirring as it struck the White Hole on her chest.

And promptly snarled on her armor. That was the problem with chainsaws. As effective and gruesome as a weapon as they seemed, they were usually meant to cut wood, and hence could run into problems when cutting other materials.

The White Hole slapped the Dean so hard his head nearly flew off, and as his chainsaw clattered to the ground she took a step over, grabbed the Dean by the shirt, and picked up his chainsaw as it roared to life again.

You would think a human being could not be fed a chainsaw.

You would be wrong.

The White Hole closed her eyes, letting the latest spray of blood run over her as the body near her feet jerked from the last of the chainsaw's movements. She felt like she'd finally come home.

She turned to find a new target.

As the bullet tore through her shoulder.

The White Hole was far more shocked then hurt. She'd been shot? How could she have been shot? These things didn't use guns! They used all kinds of bladed weapons but none of them used guns it defeated the whole purpose of being a…

More shots slammed into the White Hole, and suddenly she found herself falling, as the fact that she had been weakened was finally driven home: at full power, she was immune to the bullet weakness nearly all her species had. But that immunity no longer existed, as pain exploded through the White Hole's body, the bullet wounds burning as she let out a snarling howl.

Smirking, Officer Joe Vickers emptied out the bullets in his gun and stuck in six more as he went for the alien.

Slade and Vincent charged at each other, as their blades clashed, the slasher proving to be immensely skilled in swordsmanship as the two clashed their weapons together. Slade's eye narrowed, not liking the possibilities suggested by a slasher who wasn't out of their element with their foes not being helpless teenagers, as Vincent broke away from Slade and whirled his blades, spinning as he tried to slip around Slade's guard, as Slade blocked again, not believing it, bad enough the remake was shit but the slasher had to actually be skilled, as Slade pulled his sword away, twirled it himself, and went for a slicing blow to the hip that he turned into a masterful feint as he stabbed for Vincent's throat.

As Vincent caught Slade's sword between his blades, and as the mercenary's eyes widened he twisted, yanked, and lifted, and suddenly Slade's sword was out of his hand, being tossed up into the air.

Disarmed, Slade was defenseless, as Vincent whirled around, crossing his knives before him.

And found himself staring into the barrel of Slade's handgun. That 'defenseless' status had lasted about 1/3 of a second. And had actually been planned. No one disarmed him unless he wanted it.

After all, he was Slade Wilson.

Vincent's eyes went wide, and Slade emptied the clip into him, Vincent flying through the air and hitting the ground with a bunch of new holes.

Slade reached up and caught his sword with his left hand.

"This has gone on long enough." Slade said, as he ejected the empty clip, even as he flicked his wrist and a new ammo supplement slid down from a special holding compartment on his inner forearm and into the gun, as Slade slammed it home. "My patience is finished!"

And Slade walked back into the fray, heading for the closest slasher he could find, as the Fencer came at him, wielding not an epee but yet another axe, as he swung at Slade. Slade blocked with one arm, twirled the axe down, and yanked his blade free, causing the Fencer to stumble forward and past Slade from the continued momentum as Slade turned his gun arm around his body and fired several shots into the Fencer's back, and even as he collapsed dead Control Freak ran past Slade, screaming, as Egger's Mother continued to chase him….

Slade stuck out his sword and Egger's Mother decapitated herself.

Control Freak didn't notice, as he continued to run and scream, and Slade didn't bother to tell him as he stepped over Eggar's Mother and continued on…as he was confronted by a tall, thin slasher, with blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed all in black as he produced a switchblade.

"Never before have I seen such ferocious, refined skill. I wonder…can you kill me?" John Ryder asked.

Slade brought his gun up.

Ryder's hurled switchblade knocked it from his hand, as he pulled out another and attacked Slade, as the mercenary blocked the far smaller blade, but Ryder was immediately whirling it around, the knife a blur of gray, as Slade dodged and blocked, Ryder driving him back, a calm, cold grin on his face, as a small slice appeared on Slade's armor, and then another, and then another, as Ryder's look grew colder still, as he zipped around another slash and lanced the knife at Slade's face.

As Slade whirled around him in turn and kicked him in the back, hard, causing Ryder to stumble forward drastically. Ryder turned his head viciously, expecting Slade to be going for his gun…but instead, much to his surprise, he saw Slade walking away, like he was a non-issue. Did he think…

And then a shadow fell over him, and Ryder turned back around, as his eyes widened slightly. Now he'd seen why Slade had dismissed him.

"Oh." Ryder said, sounding strangely pleased in his surprise.

Brick's fist smashed Ryder through the air, and he crashed against a wall across the bar and tumbled to the ground in a broken heap.

"As inappropriate as I find the term Sorceress, I think we were just given the proverbial sloppy seconds." Brick said.

"What?" The Sorceress replied.

As Ryder began to move.

"…I struck him quite firmly. The fact he still stirs is a tad alarming." Brick said, looking at the slow motion of the broken man.

"Oh, do I have to do everything?" Sorceress said, as she dipped into the very meager power reserves she still possessed, reserves Brick was supposed to be helping her keep, as she traced another pattern on the wall. "Folly of Antoinette!"

A glyph appeared on the ceiling above Ryder. He glanced up with bloody eyes.

And then a guillotine fell from the glyph, and Ryder's wish for death finally came with bloody finality.

Though for all of Slade's efficiency, he seemingly couldn't deliver any in the direction of his daughter, as she shoved over a half broken table as Cordell approached. She yanked her twin katanas from her back and leapt to her feet.

"Gonna cut you into pork rinds you bastard!" Rose snarled as she slashed out, carving a deep wound across Cordell's arm and chest, but Cordell didn't seem to feel a thing. With his gun empty, he swung his nightstick at Rose, who backflipped away and sprang at the zombie cop, cutting more wounds across his side as Rose dodged another swing of the nightstick, took two quick steps to the right, and ran up the wall there (just avoiding a shelf that had a few knick-knacks on it, which would have struck her as odd if she'd been paying attention) and leapt off, slashing out her leg as she violently kicked Matt Cordell across the face. This seemed to stagger him, as she landed up close to him and went into a slashing frenzy, ripping wounds across his chest, stomach, arms, and even carving a deep slice across his face…

Before the nightstick crashed into the side of her head. Rose collapsed, having gotten too far into the frenzy and left herself open. She shook off the stars dancing before her eyes and rolled over as Cordell approached her again. He was bringing the nightstick up again, and Rose decided that he'd had the weapon long enough, as she slashed at it.

As a ringing blade noise sounded as Cordell pulled the covering of the nightstick off, revealing a blade inside it as the two weapons met.

"…WHAT?" Rose said. Cordell punched her in the face, but she'd seen that coming and rolled with the blow, getting back up to her feet as blood began to leak from her nose. "Who the FUCK HIDES A SWORD IN A NIGHTSTICK? ERROR! DOES NOT COMPUTE!"

Cordell slashed at Rose again, and she blocked with both blades, even as she felt the blow go down her arms, this slasher was frightfully strong, as she yanked her swords free and carved another pair of deep bloody lines across Cordell's chest…as Cordell stomped on her foot, pinning her in place and keeping her from retreating. Rose gasped, and managed to get her blades up in time to deflect the stab at her throat, but not in time to avoid the follow up backhand, causing her to collapse at Cordell's feet.

His foot crashed down on her chest, driving the wind from her and pinning her again as she looked up at the nightstick-blade.

"It is done." Cordell said quietly.

And Kurai leapt from behind and smashed Cordell's head off with one violent energy-charged hand-chop to the neck, the cop zombie's head slamming into the wall as the body briefly stood a moment longer, and then collapsed to the side, Cordell having rejoined the dead-dead.

"As accursedly resilient as so many creatures are, I have yet to find one who can keep on going lacking a head." Kurai said. "And as much as I enjoy having you at my feet Rose, it is decidedly less effective for watching my flank."

"Kurai, wha, you're not dead?" Rose said.

"Please Rose. If one is going to be Slade-sama's apprentice, one would be a fool not to invest in proper protection. Front and back." Kurai said, tapping on the chest of his outfit.

"Oh, right, why didn't I-LOOK OUT!" Rose screamed, and Kurai whirled as Alex lunged for him, his knife aimed for Kurai's very unarmored throat.

As the bowling ball fell on the slasher's head.

KER-KLONK! ("THE SOUND TEAM IS FIRED!" Freddy yelled).

"…EH?" Kurai said, confused as hell as a now very dazed (to say the least) slasher staggered about, blood running down his face, as Kurai looked up.

"Mew." The white cat meowed, as it looked down in satisfaction.

"…The damn cat pushed a bowling ball on the slasher's head." Kurai said, somehow getting surprised despite all that had happened.

"OHHHHHHHHHH! YAY KITTY! SMART KITTY!" Rose celebrated. The cat mewed, almost in agreement.

"Uh, Rose? Killer still standing." Kurai said, and Rose snapped out of her euphoria.

"God, STILL?" Rose said, as she pulled out another gun even as Kurai charged a blast from what remained of his reserves and blew Alex away.

"I don't find this fun any more." Kurai said. "It hit the limits of stupid six pages back, but I suppose I can slice my way through one or two more things that want to kill me just because I had sex…"

And then came the next slasher gunning for their blood…Barney. No, not the dinosaur, but a truly special slasher all the same. You see…Barney was wearing a bear mascot costume. With knives in place of the claws.

Kurai and Rose stared.

"…OH FUCK THIS." Rose snarled, as she reached up to her chest, grabbed a grenade, and yanked out the pin. "HAVE A BALL OF BOOM!"

And she threw the grenade along the ground, the explosive device rolling to a stop at Barney's feet. He looked down at it.

The resulting explosion blew him into bloody and flaming scraps of costume.

"And if I ever find the guy who came up with you, he's next!" Rose yelled.

Doctor Westminster dodged another sword slash, even as Humongous punched him across the jaw, sending him flying backwards as he lost his M-16. Westminster lay dazed on the ground, and then the Miner swung his pick-axe down and Westminster cursed, rolling to the side as the tool dug into the floor. Even as he got up, he saw another slasher coming into the room…a slasher lugging a giant toolbox.

Westminster decided he could figure out what the fuck later, even as George Lusman (the Toolbox Murderer) dumped his box on the ground…and then, as the other slashers attacked Westminster, he began going through it, hunting for a proper killing weapon.

As Westminster barely dodged a crushing blow from Humongous, as he ran to the side and found there was no door there, and where was his gun, he needed his gun, he could feel a clip where he'd found it but he needed his gun…

Lusman pulled out a hammer, shook his head, and put it back.

If he wasn't in such an enclosed space he'd use one of his grenades but in here with his talent so weakened the shrapnel would cut him to pieces…

Lusman examined a screwdriver, then decided it was too small and put it back.

And he didn't have any other weapons…

Lusman examined a nail gun, but found he was lacking nails at the moment and put it aside as a maybe.

…Except…

The slashers were coming, he had no more weapons…except the bone shield on his arm, but it was too weak to defend against multiple targets, he needed…

Lusman pulled out a tape measure, looked at it, and then tossed it over his shoulder.

Something to catch them off guard.

And the only option made him wonder if he should just let them kill him, but in the end he decided life was better…even in agony.

"Arghhhhh…" Westminster growled. "The ironic thing is, I hate you less for trying to kill me…" Westminster said, as he seized the bone shield on his arm. "THEN MAKING ME DO THIS!"

And with an immensely loud cracking/popping noise Westminster tore the bone shield off his arm, a howl of agony escaping his throat, but he had the shield free, and they were coming to get him…!

Lusman hefted a wrench, decided it was too light, and tossed it back in.

As Westminster threw the shield. He was no Captain America, but at that range he didn't have to be, as the bone disc hit Humongous in the forehead and sent him staggering back, even as Westminster ran, as he barely dodged another slash from the Miner's pickaxe and kicked him aside, as he dove through the air and came down on his gun, rolling over as his hands seized it, scrambling for the clip, his fingers shaking at he grabbed it, trying to pull it free…

'Groucho Marx' stabbed at him.

Westminster dodged and slammed the gun across 'Groucho's' face, even as the other two came for him…

As he shoved the clip in and yelled as he jammed his finger on the trigger, the bullets erupting from the gun and spraying across the room in a crazy mishmash, but the slashers were in the path of those bullets too. Humongous' chest exploded, even as bullets raked across the Miner and sent him crashing to the ground as well.

'Groucho Marx' stood again, almost unperturbed by the gunfire…

Until Westminster swung the gun over his way. Then he didn't look so cool.

"Don't bring a sword to a gunfight." Westminster said, and blew 'Groucho' away as well. "There is a chance someone already used that line in some way. I don't care."

As George Lusman finally found a huge red plumber's wrench, weighing a good fifteen pounds, and with the great weight in his hands he stood up to strike…

As Westminster aimed the M-16 at him, his finger on the taser blaster.

"That's the problem with variety, isn't it?" Westminster said, and one giant blast of electricity later reduced George Lusman to a smoking corpse.

Westminster lowered the gun, taking deep breaths.

"I'm beginning to wonder…if I should…just go on disability…" He said to himself.

And then the sound of another chainsaw starting up, and Westminster's eyes filled with bitter exasperation as the new slasher came…and then his eyes widened. Dressed as a traditional farmer, Farmer Vincent might have looked unusual if he only had the chainsaw…but the fact that he was wearing a carved-off pig's head over his own made him look downright absurd.

"I heard…you speaking of…variety, young man." Farmer Vincent said, his chainsaw revving. "To which I say…it takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent fritters."

Westminster stared for a bit, and then he released a small, semi-insane laugh, and snapped up his gun and pulled the trigger.

Only to be rewarded with a dry clicking again. He'd blown all his ammo once more.

"…I do wonder about the karmic implications of these actions." Westminster said, and ran for it, charging out the door as Farmer Vincent gave chase, chainsaw roaring.

"…You know, we're not dead yet. You'd think the author would have us do something if she bothered to make sure we survive…" The Handyman said to Adonis as the war raged through the bar.

As the Nail Gun Killer popped up, his large pneumonic weapon at the ready.

"I TAKE IT BACK! I'M HAPPY BEING IGNORED!" The Handyman screamed as he ducked behind the bar.

As the Nail Gun Killer struck down Adonis with a plastic pink flamingo.

**_Did he really do that?_**

No you idiot he shot Adonis with a bunch of nails! What the hell were you EXPECTING?

_**No need to be snarky.**_

"I'm not even smiling." The Nail Gun Killer said.

As Adonis looked down at his chest…and at all the nails stuck in his mech suit, pierced in pretty good, but nowhere near deep enough to touch flesh.

And then he seized the Nail Gun Killer in his giant mech hands.

"Dude, this isn't so much for the whole trying to kill me thing, but the fact that your one liner wasn't good, or bad, or terrible, BUT THAT IT MADE NO SENSE WHATSOEVER!"

And Adonis promptly spiked the Nail Gun Killer as good as any celebrating NFL player ever did.

"TOUCHDOWN! HOO-RAH!" Adonis said, and danced. And for absurd sights, perhaps nothing topped a giant robot suit dancing amidst a bloody war between villains and slashers. Except maybe if he'd had pom-poms again.

Handyman peered out over the bar again, looking at the Nail Gun Killer's legs dangling out of the section of floor he'd been driven in.

"Nice, but I probably could have come up with something better." The Handyman said.

The legs twitched briefly, and Handyman yelled and hid behind the bar again.

Maybe if they had any sense at all, they may have heard Nightwalker screaming as the inbred cannibals began slicing into her…but their first effort was snarled by Nightwalker's armor. But Three-Finger eventually managed to slice a hole through that, yanking it open to expose Nightwalker's bare midrift. In sick glee, he pawed at the pale flesh…

As Nightwalker's eyes grew as cold as bullets, as she finally snapped, going beyond horror and straight into a zone of unrelenting rage, as she finally yanked a leg free from One-Eye and stomped down her ankle on the ground.

As a long blade sprang from her boot, and with one swift back and forth motion she yanked her foot up and drove it right through the remaining eye of One-Eye. The midget mountain-dweller squealed and dropped Nightwalker's leg, as the sudden shift caused Three-Finger's knife to screw up, and instead of stabbing/slicing Nightwalker where she was exposed, the blade instead brushed her hip as the girl twisted her foot and broke the blade off her boot even as she fully pulled her lower half free from Three-Finger, and as her feet hit the floor she shifted her weight and in an expert judo throw hurled Saw-Tooth over her, knocking Three-Finger aside in the process. Nightwalker fell to the ground from the toss, even as One-Eye collapsed as well, dead, while Nightwalker did a no-hands kip up, even as Three-Finger regained his sense and stared at her in confusion, not knowing how their fine meal had suddenly escaped.

Nightwalker glared at him a moment.

And then she snapped up her arms and fired three orbs into Three-Finger, giving him an acid bath.

Saw-Tooth got back up just as his brother staggered back, shrieking in agony for a few seconds before the acid caused his body to fall apart, melting away like it was snow under the beating sun. He turned his hideously deformed face on Nightwalker, who raised her other arm.

Click, click. She was out of ammo.

Saw-Tooth bellowed and charged her, producing a bloodstained axe from somewhere as he swung at her, but Nightwalker leapt to the side and rolled, springing up as she tried to find more ammo on her person, but Saw-Tooth was on her with the speed of vengeance, the wood floor splintering where she had just been as Nightwalker dove away again…

And spied it, lying off in a dark corner, apparently kicked aside and forgotten. The Lord's long, ornate katana, which he'd held only briefly before Freddy struck him down.

And since it was just lying there, Nightwalker called dibs, as she dove away as the axe splintered the wall, Saw-Tooth still on her to tear her apart, as she reached the katana in one more good diving leap, snatching it up and yanking it from the sheath as Saw-Tooth charged at her, bellowing…

Nightwalker turned around, appeared to start getting up, and then did a mini-leap forward, as she hit the ground and slid under Saw-Tooth's axe, as she reared the katana up and rammed it right through his side just above the hip, the bloody blade tip exploding out the other end as Saw-Tooth bellowed…and then, despite the blade shifting in him, he swung the axe down at Nightwalker again, who gasped and lost a lock of hair as she yanked her head to the side, as Saw-Tooth tried to stomp on her, Nightwalker frantically trying to get her body free from under his feet, even as Saw-Tooth kept after her, as if the sword stuck through him wasn't even THERE, as Nightwalker tried to get up and was kneed violently in her shoulder and neck, knocked sprawling on the ground again as Saw-Tooth shifted again to stay over her, as he swung the axe down, the blade biting into her ankle, the armor barely keeping her safe but not free from pain as she yelled once more…as one last flash of icy rage shot through her and she spun her legs, the axe pulled from her foot even as the motion resulted in tripping up the giant mountain man, as she whirled her feet under her, placed her weight on them, jerked to the side as Saw-Tooth tried to take her head off with a one handed axe swing…

And seized the sword handle, and in one swift twisting, yanking slash she spun around his body in a perfect 180 degrees and ripped his whole stomach open, the intestines and other organs spewing out in a cascade of blood and viscera.

Saw-Tooth went strangely quiet, as he fell to his knees, his guts in his hands, as he looked at Nightwalker as she rose up, blood dripping from the blade.

Her blade.

"…My name is Nightwalker." She said.

And with one swirling slash she chopped Saw-Tooth's head from his shoulders.

"And I spit on your grave." Nightwalker finished.

The cold anger faded in her, as Nightwalker tried to take stock in the immensely violent actions she'd just undertaken. Her kindest kill had involved stabbing someone through the eye, and then she'd melted a man into a puddle and carved up a third like he was a slab of beef…

…But they were just fictional creations, manifestations of dark magic.

…And considering what they'd done, how they'd touched her…she doubted any court would convict her.

She supposed she was lucky. Not many women could escape such a situation via such means, without scars on their soul.

And on that thought, Nightwalker found that she finally began to understand the White Hole's mindset…

And that she'd still have some use for it.

She re-armed her gauntlets just in case, but it was clear what Nightwalker was going to use as she started across the bar, bloody sword at her side.

And she was not spoilt for challengers, as the Driller Killer came for her, his whirring power drill aching for her blood.

She gave it her blade instead, slicing the power tool in half, and then carving the Driller Killer open from one side of his ribs to the other, and even as he spasmed she spun around him and rammed her sword through his back. She yanked it free and walked on…and Frank Zito saw her long hair, lovely hair, even the artificial color that it was, and came for her with his knife, dearly wanting to claim her scalp.

Nightwalker did him one better, as she blocked his stab, kicked him in the knee to knock him off balance, and then chopped the top of his head off in one swift slash. She walked on as he hit the floor, his brains oozing out like jelly.

And as Nightwalker was riding high, The White Hole had seemingly been laid low, as she tried to get up from her injuries, as Joe Vickers, another lunatic police officer (albeit one that was still alive in the traditional) approached her, smirking and aiming his gun.

The White Hole tried to surge up to annihilate him, and he shot her three more times, this time in the chest. The fact that her armor protected her didn't lessen the thunderous impacts, the ones she had once hardly felt at all.

"You have the right to remain dead." Vickers said, highly amused with himself. "Anything you say can and will be considered very strange because you're dead. You have the right to an attorney, but it won't do you any good because you're dead."

The White Hole surged up again. Three more bullets knocked her down, two of them hitting her in unarmored places.

"One Adam-12, one Adam-12, suspect is big, ugly, black-haired, and considered EXTREMELY fuckin' stupid!" Vickers said as he reloaded again. "You know, I do hate to shoot a suspect when she's down."

Then he aimed his gun at her, as the White Hole barely sat up, her lone eye going wide.

"Oh wait, is there anyone with a video camera here? No? Then of course I do!"

And then Vickers no longer had a hand, as Nightwalker chopped it, and the gun, clean off.

"…Hey! You're under arrest for assaulting an officer! And destruction of police property!" Vickers said, rather glib about losing his hand, as he pointed at Nightwalker to emphasize his words.

She chopped off his other hand.

"Case dismissed." She said, and kicked him in the chest, as he tripped and fell over, falling right on top of the White Hole.

Who had used those several seconds to recover, and as you might have guessed, was none too happy.

"Hello." She said calmly.

Nightwalker turned and looked around while the White Hole extracted her revenge on Vickers. Remember when I said FF Dot Net would need a few new ratings before? Well this one would probably require about a dozen more.

She rose eventually, looking at Nightwalker, who stood there, blade in hand, no new foes to challenge her.

"…I dismissed you as a liability and did nothing to make you think I changed my mind. I still have not. But I must ask, why go to so much trouble, especially when it seemed I was wrong and would pay the highest price for it?"

"Because I chose to." Nightwalker said, and let the White Hole reach whatever understanding she might.

Problems still plagued Doctor Westminster though, as he fled down the alleyway to escape from Farmer Vincent…at least until he suffered the greatest curse and greatest expectancy of all fleeing horror characters. He tripped.

"OWTCH!" Westminster groaned, as he heard the chainsaw roaring behind him, as he scrambled back up and turned around, a moment before he would have lost an arm to the whirring blade. How Farmer Vincent could see so well considering he was wearing a severed pig's head, who knew.

"You may as well stop runnin'. Though I must say, leaves the meat tender." Farmer Vincent said. Westminster staggered back, slapping at his body, trying to find any clip, but damn nothing, just his grenades, where was the other…

….Of course. He wasn't inside any more.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot sir." Westminster said, as he yanked one grenade free and pulled the pin. "Let me actually show you some hospitality. Welcome to my barbeque!"

And Westminster hurled the grenade and ran like hell.

It rolled to a stop at Farmer Vincent's feet.

"…Sigh. Youg'un's."

The explosion blew Farmer Vincent into the meat he so enjoyed making, as well as blew Westminster out onto the round outside the bar. He bounced once and then came to a stop, lying there and groaning.

"This is NOT my day…" Westminster muttered, as he painfully got to his feet, never thinking he'd have seen the day when he'd miss his bone armor, but his talent was far from being able to grow that back yet…

…It was too quiet.

Westminster flicked his eyes around, checking every shadow. Far too quiet. He finally found a new clip and snapped it into his gun, as he slowly looked around, peering down into the darkness of the road…

As an 18-Wheeler's high beams lit up.

"…No fair." Westminster said.

The horn roared, as Rusty Nail put his truck in gear and charged, roaring down the street at Westminster. He fired for a few seconds into the truck before he decided running was a better idea and did so, sprinting down the road.

As another set of lights lit up, and Westminster stopped dead as the monster truck roared to life in turn, the hideous (man hasn't that adjective been used a lot) Monster Man slamming down his stick (did monster trucks have sticks? Do you actually care? No? Good) and putting the pedal to the metal, tearing up the road.

Westminster whirled around, and then whirled around again. Cut off. No alleyways to flee into and the street was too narrow to escape via the sidewalk. He had no grappling gun, and he doubted Superman was going to drop out of the sky and rescue him. And he did not have a bazooka.

That left him two options. He didn't want to die, so that left one.

The trucks rampaged at him, closing in.

As Westminster reached down into himself, seized what little power he could muster, focusing it, reforming himself…

The truck horns honked, sounding like bellowing primordial beasts.

As Westminster knelt down, re-arranging the bone structure in his limbs, and then he sprang up like a grasshopper, his complex alteration of his bones allowing his legs to briefly becoming springs as he flew up into the air, beating the trucks by a few mere feet.

And without Westminster in their way, the trucks only had one thing left to hit.

The collision was catastrophic, as the dozens of tons of metal slammed into each other, each truck destroying the other in a thunderous wail of metal.

And just as they started to settle, Westminster landed on the twisted wreck the two giant vehicles had become, a brief surge of pain shooting through his legs, but otherwise unharmed.

"…Whoo." Westminster breathed out, not having been sure he had enough power for that trick to work. "Thank you Mister Jason Statham."

Westminster looked at the 'slashers' (as they did drive trucks, but they were close enough), Rusty Nail now a pulped mess in his truck cab while the Monster Man was a similarly shattered wreck hanging out of his windshield.

"Well now…that worked out about as well as could be expected."

And the Monster Man lunged up, grabbing Westminster's ankle.

Westminster yelled in fright and emptied his remaining M-16 ammo into the creature, the body jerking under the assault. Westminster fired until he ran dry again, and even that wasn't enough, as he seized his remaining grenades, pulled the pin, dumped them on the Monster Man, and jumped off the trucks.

"I'm really starting to hate the clichés in this film genre!" Westminster yelled as he ran like hell.

As the grenades blew, and then the gas tanks caught and erupted as well, as the night behind Westminster's fleeing form exploded into a brilliant blaze of fire and death.

* * *

And inside the bar…it had finally hit the last reel. 

The Shredder (no, not the foe of certain mutant turtles) swung his axe at Jack, who once again caught it.

"Death to Snowboarders?" Jack said, reading the inscription on the axe. "Oh you got it all wrong mate!"

Jack yanked the axe free.

"You're supposed to be ON THE OTHER END!" Jack yelled, and turned the axe on the snow-dressed villain with the expected bloody results.

"Man, I am missing out! Come on!" Control Freak said, as he furiously fiddled with his laser sword, trying to get back in the action as his remote battery still hadn't recharged (though it was almost there).

"Young man, you look rather pale. I should take your temperature." Dr. Giggles said to Killjoy, as he raised his scalpel and spiked thermometer.

As Killjoy made his own diagnosis, that Dr. Giggles was about to suffer a fatal case of lead poisoning, and emptied his guns into the not-so-good doctor. Even more effective then eating an apple a day, or perhaps a pun in that vein if Killjoy ever spoke.

"Lousy piece of junk! Who built this damn thing?…Oh right, I did." Control Freak realized, and continued tinkering.

Madman Marz made the last decapitation attempt of the night, as he swung his axe at Blackfire…who dodged it, punched the lunatic across the face, shattered his kneecap with a brutal kick, and as he fell, seized his head in her hands and with one mighty clench crushed it between her fingers.

"…GUUHHHHHHHHH!" Blackfire spat, waving her hands in disgust as she fell out of the battle fugue and realized just how gross that choice of killing moves was, not to mention the gruesome mess that had been sprayed across her sweaters.

"Come on! Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeoncomeon…uh, right." Control Freak said, as he realized he was sounding too much like another overweight 'joke villain'. "Damn it, this will never work! If I could only have…oh…right…OF COURSE!" Control Freak said, as he looked at his backup remote, which had finally recharged. He aimed it at the laser sword and hit rewind, and cackled madly as the damage undid itself. "Yes! I'm a genius!"

Mad Mod hit Control Freak over the head with his cane.

"OW! What was THAT for!"

"Just reminding the bloody readers I'm still here in a manner which is entertaining to me."

As Quiltface power-walked for the White Hole…as the alien lashed out and tore through his chest, and as the power-walking slasher whirled around Nightwalker slashed out and cut a twin to the deep wound. The multi-faced slasher collapsed, and Nightwalker and the White Hole finished him off with a downward stab and a stomp, respectively.

There were still a few stragglers…

"Oh no, allow me!" Control Freak said, as he charged into the fray with his laser sword. His first target was Uncle Billy. "ARGH! YOUR MOVIE SUCKED! I COULDN'T SIT THROUGH IT! AND I SAT THROUGH _GOING OVERBOARD _AND_ LEONARD PART 6!_ Do you have ANY IDEA WHAT THAT SAYS ABOUT YOUR FILM?" Control Freak yelled as he cut down the man with the wretched clown mask. Next up: The Knight. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT WAS WORSE, YOUR FILM OR THE CHILD 'STAR'! I'D RATHER KILL HIM!" The Knight's armor and sword proved no protection against Control Freak's laser weapon. The worst was saved for last, as Control Freak went after The Flannel Killer. "HOW DO YOU MISSPELL THE OPENING TITLE CARD? THAT'S JUST PART 1 OF THE 19,000 THINGS WRONG WITH YOUR FILM! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THEM ALL, SO LET'S JUST SAY THIS IS A BETTER WAY OF BEING BEATEN THEN HAVING EGGS THROWN IN YOUR FACE!" And with those last angry words, the last slasher in that group was cut down and killed by Control Freak.

"There are movies so vile even Control Freak cannot find a single thing to like about them. The world is undoubtedly doomed." Slade commented to himself.

And Raw Sawyer swung his crowbar at Slade…who calmly aimed and emptied his gun into the supernatural slasher, who staggered back…as Kurai blew his right arm and a good chunk of his chest off, and then Brick smashed the remaining mess flat, and stomped on it for good measure.

And that left just one remaining killer…which was probably fitting.

There were several movies that really birthed _Halloween_, which defined the whole slasher genre. One was an Italian film called _Twitch of the Death Nerve._ Another was a Canadian film called _Black Christmas._ And the third was in many people's minds a 1977 film called _The Town That Dreaded Sundown_, based loosely on a real life event of a string of unsolved killings committed by a masked man in a small town in Texas just after World War II.

And here that killer was, known as the Phantom, as he gazed at Slade through the eyes of his hooded sack disguise.

Slade looked back with his sole eye.

And the Phantom jerked up his gun and fired.

As Slade dashed past him, his movement too quick for anyone to follow.

KER-SLASH!

And then, without a sound, the Phantom fell over, as Slade lifted his outstretched sword, swung it around, and placed it back in his sheath.

"How many casualties did we suffer?" Slade asked.

"Westminster's missing in action, but until he's confirmed dead…none." The Sorceress said, looking around at the villains, battered and bloody among the piles of bodies. "None at all."

"Well then." Slade said, as he ejected the empty clip of his weapon and popped in another. "I'd say that says it all, doesn't it?"

Famous last words.

As the last of them exploded from the entrance door, the biggest of them all, a slasher nearly as wide as he was tall, wielding twin giant axes, as he bellowed his wrath, bellowed the rage of Buddy, and charged…

And Slade, Rose, Killjoy, Kurai, and Nightwalker all opened fire on him, and the giant slasher was stopped dead by the sheer amount of ammo, his whole front exploding into a bloody mess as he was forced back, all the way to the door…

As another long blast of machine gun fire tore into his back, and with that Buddy collapsed forward, the last of the slashers, dead and gone, as Westminster stood over his body with his own smoking gun.

"Well then." Westminster said, as he tipped his not-actually-there hat. "Nice to see you saved me SOME of the excitement. But I've rather had quite enough already."

"More accurate words were never spoken." Slade said, as he looked around the utter carnage of the bar once more…as the bodies began to fade away, as well as their weapons and the mess they had left (though any damage caused to the surroundings remained, Slade noticed). White Hole actually looked rather disappointed to not longer be bloodsoaked, while Nightwalker looked annoyed that she still had sliced up stomach armor…

…Huh.

"Still alive, Miss Sine?" Slade asked Nightwalker. Nightwalker gave Slade a look.

"No thanks to you, Mister Wilson." Nightwalker said, as she found the sheath for her new blade, slid the sword home, and attached it to her back. "But then again, what else would you expect? On both sides."

"…Hmmmm." Slade replied, and walked on, looking for his normal shotgun (the Striker was replaceable, but the SPAS-12 had been personally rebuilt by him and wasn't). "If no one is critically wounded then, here's what we have to do. This was far more trouble then it was worth, so everyone is going to properly equip themselves to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Slade found his shotgun, which was considerably easier with all the bodies vanishing.

"That means you need to re-enlarge the weapon crates Ithlian." Slade added. He heard the Sorceress groan loudly, but he ignored it.

"Ah man. This is more of a pain then a chip shot! And I don't even know what a chip shot is!" Adonis groaned as he tried to pull the nails out of his armor.

"Barkeep! More scotch!" Jack said, sitting at one of the remaining stools, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. When Adonis ignored him, Jack made a semi-sarcastic comment about service and fetched himself another bottle from what was left intact among the ruins of the bar.

Westminster sat down nearby, trying to gather himself, his legs and arms aching like hell now that all the adrenaline was gone, and he was out of painkillers, damn, this night just kept getting worse…

"Funny how you took off and came back." Jack commented, as Westminster looked at the Australian. "I thought you would have run for it. Now why didn't you?"

"…Believe me, the trouble out there was bigger then the trouble in here." Westminster said. Jack just looked at Westminster, but the doctor liked the expression even less then Jack's words. There was a dangerous turning of gears going on behind those eyes, and Westminster wondered just why it was focused on him, as he located his hat on the floor and put it back on. Well, at least no one had stepped on it.

"Slade is right. It is rather surprising you came out of this alive." The White Hole said to Nightwalker, as the young vigilante approached a table with her briefcase of ammo (as the Sorceress HAD managed to start re-enlarging the crates despite her sourness and worn-out nature). Nightwalker looked at her.

"They can give me huge tits and bleached hair, but they can't change who I am. I'm a survivor. And I don't hold grudges. No matter the source. In the end, they're just not worth it." Nightwalker said.

The White Hole was silent, as Nightwalker continued to reload her weapons and ammo patches, but the look on her face showed she gave the matter considerable thought.

"Oh great, your overlarge bum is still alive? They really were pathetic." Mad Mod said as he picked his way across the bar, as Control Freak, who moments ago had been looking pleased with himself, found his good mood faltering.

"Hey, that was just…a test! I'm sure the next threat, you'll be begging for my help!"

"Right. I'm sure your exercise routine was an inspiration to us all." The Handyman said. "At least Dr. Light and I had the sense to hide behind something."

"Hey! I was going to get involved, but you idiots kept shooting everywhere! It was safer for me behind the table!" Dr. Light yelled.

"You just keep telling yourself that. I always did like a good game of Chinese Whispers." Mad Mod said. "Well I suppose it means that there's someone else to for these things to kill."

"Well, uh…hah! You have a gun! You said you'd never have a gun!" Control Freak said in a comeback that was beyond lame.

"I said that under the constraints that I would in terms of personal defense on my own terms be more creative then a simple firearm, but considering the aggro here that's been foisted on us, I sure as hell don't have a problem with using one, you twit!"

As a pair of hands grabbed Mad Mod from where he was standing in front of an open hallway door and yanked him in with a yell of "BOLLOCKS!"

Slade's head jerked towards the door at the sound of the yell, even as Control Freak and Handyman jerked away from the doorway in surprise.

"I think you missed one Slade!" Handyman yelled, and then hid behind the bar again.

"…He grabbed Mad Mod?" Slade said.

"Yeah!"

"Well, no great loss…but no sense having him skulk around if we can avoid it." Slade said, as he finished reloading his shotgun. "Kurai, Rose, Nightwalker, come with me. Anyone else can follow if they want, but if there's even the slightest chance you could be shocked into harming us instead of our target, don't bother: I'll kill you myself." Slade said, as he racked his shotgun and headed for the door, followed by his apprentices.

"Perhaps you should let the cat down." Kurai said to Rose, who was hugging it to her chest again.

"But he's so CUTTTTTTTTTEEEEE!" Rose squeed. Kurai sighed inwardly, almost wishing the battle were still going on.

* * *

It had been the Sugarman who had grabbed Mad Mod, having finally recovered from his little mishaps involving a swinging door and his face, as he'd taken the chance that the villains had dropped their guard and seized the nearest one, pulling him away with him. 

Unfortunately, he was so caught in swiftly dragging the villain out of sight that he didn't pay attention to where he was going.

And hence dragged Mad Mod through an open door that lead to a flight of downwards-going stairs.

In case you were wondering, unexpected stairs rarely result in anything good.

"BLOODY HELL!" Mad Mod yelled as both he and the Sugarman tumbled down said stairs, finally crashing down at the base of them, Mad Mod's gun escaping his hand and flying off into the shadows. He'd hung onto his cane though, as he pushed his pained body up.

As the Sugarman, who had somehow fallen down the stairs without squashing or losing his chef's hat, rose to his feet himself, as menacingly as somehow who had just taken a tumble down some stairs because of his own stupidity could rise up anyway.

"I meant to do that." The Sugarman said. "Despair, asshole! You have only escaped the rank and file, and now you shall meet your end at my hands, the greatest god of death…!"

Mad Mod slammed the Sugarman with his cane as hard as he could.

"OW! THAT HURT!" Sugarman whined.

Mad Mod hit him again.

"Stop it!" Sugarman said in a higher voice, as he slashed his giant butcher knife at the British villain, but he dodged and slammed his cane across Sugarman's head again.

"You got dirt all over my suit! Do you have any idea how much you rotters have driven up cleaning prices?" Mad Mod snapped, as he whacked Sugarman again, sending him stumbling back.

"This isn't fair! Things were supposed to-"

WHACK!

"I demand you stop hitting me!" The Sugarman said in a deep, dangerous voice.

WHACK!

"Here we go round the Mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…!"

WHACK!

("At least we seem to have finally shrugged off that damn KER addendum!" Freddy said.)

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Mad Mod asked as he chased the villain, hammering on him. "This is what they replaced Dracula and Frankenstein with? No wonder all you damn kids have oatmeal for brain…!"

And then, in a sudden flash of power, Mad Mod went from a young man in a black suit to an old man wearing a sweater and slacks.

"…Bugger. Daft timing." Mad Mod said, looking at his now elderly form. The Sugarman lowered his arms from his recoiling, and then he started laughing.

"Now you see why you cannot escape your death! I shall…!"

Mad Mod hit Sugarman as hard as he could with his cane again, sending him stumbling back with another pained yelp.

"I'm old, not decrepit you little bastard!" Mad Mod snapped as he stepped forward and hit Sugarman again.

"Do you have stairs in your house?" Sugarman asked in a teenaged-sounding voice.

WHACK!

"Stop pissing on hospitality! You can't piss on hospitality!"

WHACK!

"I'M TELLING!"

"That one sounds good." Mad Mod said, and thrust out his cane, Sugarman jerking back as he expected to get hit again…and then stopped.

"Huh?"

And then energy blasted out of the cane, striking the Sugarman and flowing back to Mad Mod, and in a flash he was young and besuited again.

"Heh, what do you know, even works on you." Mad Mod said…though the slasher didn't look old. Well, he was a manifestation, not an actual human being, at least the vitality drain had worked! "Now that I have the strength of youth again, it's time to resume my role as headmaster. And you've been a VERY bad little duckie."

"Ducks? I love ducks!" The Sugarman said in a young girl's voice.

"…You're a loony." Mad Mod replied, and slammed the Sugarman over the head with his cane again.

"Nyuk nyuk!" Sugarman said. Mad Mod smashed him once more, now having put the slasher in full retreat: he wasn't even trying to slice and dice Mad Mod any more.

"Ow. Please cease beating me, I was just in the pastry shop for a crueler. I'm a librarian by trade, and this all seems awfully uncalled for…" Sugarman said before Mad Mod slammed him over the head with his cane again.

"I'm noticing a pattern. Every time I clobber you good, you switch personalities. Let's see what happens when you run out!" Mad Mod said, and whammed the Sugarman with his cane again, sending him stumbling down the hallway and around the corner that had been approaching.

"These people aren't playing fair! AT ALL! It's like they don't LIKE being stabbed!" The Sugarman whined.

"Well, have you ever tried it yourself?" Sugarman answered…himself, as the slasher paused, and as Mad Mod came around the corner he turned his butcher knife around and actually gave his arm a good poke.

"Wow, is that what it feels like?" Sugarman said.

"STOP QUOTING FAMILY GUY, DAMMIT! AND STABBING US!" Sugarman then roared. His argument with himself would have probably continued, had Mad Mod not struck him with his cane again.

WHACK!

"Well this all seems a little unfriendly, dontcha know." The Sugarman said, sounding like a Minnesotan housewife.

"Oh do be quiet." Mad Mod said, and swung again.

WHACK!

"Oh yeah! Bring it on! Finally some good old fashioned PAIN!"

"…I wouldn't hit you if it weren't the only way to get to the next weird personality." Mad Mod said.

WHACK!

"What's the difference between an orange?"

"A rotten tomato is too good a review for you lot!"

"Tough room."

WHACK!

"This sucks! You suck! You're a stupid old man who doesn't know what the real world is about! It's about Linkin Park and cutting yourself and giving me money!" The Sugarman said as a perfect whiny teenager.

"You make a well reasoned and sound argument. To which I can only respond GET A GIRLFRIEND!"

WHACK!

"Say, great weather we're having, isn't it? Can I interest you in a new long distance offer?"

"BEGONE DEMON!" Mad Mod screamed as he began raining down blows in a frenzy. "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELLS YOU! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELLS YOU!"

The Sugarman staggered back after the last barrage, and you could almost swear you saw his head becoming a cartoon-like mass of bumps.

"Can I kill you yet?" He asked plaintively.

Mad Mod smashed him with another blow, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Well, you're awfully overrated! Don't know who'd bother makin' a movie about you, if an old man and a cane could beat you!" Mad Mod said.

"…Have you SEEN…some of the stuff that's been greenlighted…that appeared up there…that was actually GIVEN MONEY TO MAKE? I'm a frickin' elite!" The Sugarman protested.

WHACK! The Sugarman staggered back again.

"You're about to be a dead elite. The day is mine!" Mad Mod said as he adjusted his hand and raised his cane again, planning for his next ramming/lancing blow to actually crack the Sugarman's skull.

"Which one of you do I stab…" The Sugarman said in a daze, as the slasher pushed himself forward…

Mad Mod lanced at him.

And fell over, circles in his eyes.

As Mad Mod rammed his cane right into the electrical power box that had been hidden behind the Sugarman's body. The Englishman's eyes widened.

"Bugger."

And then a gigantic amount of electricity exploded through Mad Mod's body, his form jerking and thrashing as his hair stood on end and began to smoke, and as his glasses exploded the sheer backlash of the electrical charge blew his cane right out of the box, hurling Mad Mod against the opposite wall as his walking stick impaled right through him.

He jerked once more, and then slumped, his corpse still smoking.

The Sugarman slowly stood up, looking at what Mad Mod had done…to himself. The Sugarman hadn't done it. It had all been the villain's fault.

"100 slashers…and this is what was managed." The Sugarman said. "Bloody depressing, mate. Bloody depressing."

* * *

"Well then, so much for that." Slade said as he and his entourage found Mad Mod's body a few minutes later. "Forget the remaining killer, we'll most likely see him coming. Let's return to the bar and prepare ourselves, I do not believe we have seen the last of the night's problems." 

"What happened to him…" Rose said, looking a bit ill.

"It appears that the killer rammed him into the electrical box, and once he'd been cooked well done followed it up by picking up the body and impaling it to the wall with his own cane. Quite nice, all around. At least he has some sense of flair." The White Hole said, as the villains turned and left, leaving Mad Mod's body stuck to the wall.

And in the nearby shadows…

"Man! Nothin' worse than gettin' credit for such a sloppy job! Nyuck nyuck!" The Sugarman said, as the shadowy Freddy projection appeared next to him.

"So tell me Sugarman, as I need to refresh my memory and all, how many of those villain fools did your army of fellows kill?"

"Uh well…if you count…and one should consider…and really, you had to be there…uh…less than we hoped for." The Sugarman said.

"Grahhh! This is what happens when you send the people without seven movie story arcs! You accomplish NOTHING, because you ARE nothing!"

"Hey, you didn't get anyone when you fought the Titans…"

"That was a fluke! I was cheated! The writer had a deadline! I didn't get enough screen time! She was setting me up for the big sequel!"

"You weren't even in the last one."

"The REAL sequel! Shut up! Get out of here loser! I'm done with you lot! I'm going to send in a winner!"

"Don't you lose at the end of every movie?"

"That's how sagas are made! Minor inconveniences like death!"

"Didn't Jason kick your ass? And isn't he not here? Do we HAVE any winners?"

Freddy slashed his ghost-claws out, and a bolt of electricity from the damaged power box tore out and gave the Sugarman a giant jolt.

KER-ZAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

"…Oh look the add-on is back." The Sugarman said.

"ARGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Writer's Note: Every single slasher that appeared in the giant battle is real, and actually appeared in (in some cases, more then one) movie. And the worst part is, if I hadn't decided a hundred was good, I could have found even more. I know. I'm scared too. 

**_Next Time, In Boogeymen III!_**

_"You're telling me this isn't human flesh?" The zombie said._

"_No man, it's I Can't Believe It's Not Human Flesh ™." Zombie 2 said._

"…_hey man, that isn't cool. I heard that shit gives you cancer."_

"_Don't you have to be alive to get cancer?"_

"_Point. And half the fat…WIN FREAKIN' WIN!"_

"_Didn't you hear guys?" Zombie 3 said. "It's just chicken breast painted red."_

"…_I didn't think people would taste like chicken…"_

"_Fuckin' newb. Come back when you've grown some maggots."_

**8888**_  
_

_And Jack looked at his new chainsaw hands._

"…_groovy."_

**8888**_  
_

"_We're all mad here." The Cheshire Cat said. "You really should try it once, to see if you like it."_

**8888**_  
_

"_Kurai, will you marry me?"_

"_What are you, dense? Are you freakin' retarded? I'M THE GODDAMN KURAI!"_

"…_what does that have to do with anything?"_

"_Huh? What does what have to do with anything?"_

"_I'm so confused…"_

"_What, are you dense? Are you freakin' retarded? I'M THE GODDAMN KURAI!"_

"_It goes on…and on…" Slade said._

**8888**_  
_

_Adonis sprayed something under his arm…and a moment later he was swarmed by dozens of zombies, as he went under with a scream._

_**WARNING:** Zombies like Tag Body Spray too._

_**ADDENDUM TO WARNING:** Or, more accurately, they like it at all. Women think it smells horrible._

_**FURTHER ADDENDUM TO WARNING:** We're FRAUDS! FRAAAAAAAUDS! What have I done with my life?_


	5. Howitzer Helper

_Part 5: Howitzer Helper_

_**You should have listened to me. You shouldn't have cut me off. As this story is now cursed! It will never finish! It didn't last year, and it won't now! Not by Halloween and maybe ever! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**_

…….Lord, you idiot. It loses some of its effect that way, but I doubt everyone would stop reading it just because it misses Halloween.

_**Um…er…**_

You wanna act tough? Fine. You can be the official bubble-giver of the story. Every time someone or something new shows up, you can explain it to the readers! You wanted a role, you got it, jackass.

_**I AM NOT SOME PRODUCER OF INANE TRIVIA!**_

You are now. Maybe you'll learn not to talk back to the author this way.

_**DAMN YOU ALL!**_

* * *

"So what is next, Krueger?" The Lieutenant asked, the other two ever silent as they stood around Freddy's throne. 

"Well now…" Freddy said, observing his screen. "Considering how violently they obliterated my army of 'peers', one should think big."

"You mean as such…?" The Lieutenant said, gesturing to the screen.

* * *

Cyborg was looking at the wall when the shadow fell over him, and he turned around just as the form came crashing down. 

It was tall and spindly, yet rippled with formed and horrifically powerful muscles, thick knobs of bony mass protruding from its shoulders, its muscles tight over its ribs in an almost emancipated appearance, its hands and feet incredibly elongated and also frightfully strong, tipped with deadly claws. A short prehensile tail trailed from its back, and its head was slightly elongated as well, ending in a mouth of sharp teeth and blank, soulless eyes, as it pounced on Cyborg, driving him to the ground, howling into his face as its claws began to tear into Cyborg's chest…

Even as Cyborg rammed his sonic cannon into the demon's chest in turn.

"I just had that buffed and shined, asshole!"

The point-blank blast blew the demon off, but did not appear to stun it much, as it landed on all fours like a cross between a cat and a monkey. It would have attacked the robotic teen again, if a blaze of Starbolts and thrown rocks didn't fly at it, forcing it to retreat…into the hands of a Megatherium giant ground sloth, who smashed the creature with his giant, powerful claws and sent it flying right through the nearest wall.

"I thought you said using any of those prehistoric animal forms again constituted a war crime in your opinion. And after all the trouble I went to to look them up." Savior said as he landed near Beast Boy, who had turned human again.

"I don't think the Geneva Accord ever said anything involving chaos magic monsters from horror films." Beast Boy replied. "Which one is this again?"

"Pumpkinhead." Raven said as she popped up from the shadows, her cloak torn.

With a low growl, Pumpkinhead stalked out of the hole, apparently not bothered too much by Beast Boy's blow.

"Stubborn bastard." Savior muttered.

"Keep away from Pumpkinhead, unless you're tired of living. His enemies are mostly dead, he's mean and unforgiving. Bolted doors and windows barred, guard dogs prowling in the yard, won't protect you in your bed. Nothing will, from Pumpkinhead." Raven recited. The Titans glanced at her. "Part of the poem that inspired the film. You're surprised I know it?"

"I don't think the poet ever met anyone like us." Savior said, as the Shimmer flowed out and formed into various weapons.

"TITANS, GO!" Robin yelled.

Starfire and Raven fired projectiles to throw the demonic Pumpkinhead off guard, while Robin, Savior, and Nigel went in immediately afterward, but neither attack worked well, as Pumpkinhead avoided the projectiles and then smacked away Savior and Robin with a blow apiece, before Scalpel jumped on it and dug in with his claws, drawing a howl of pain from the creature as it thrashed and tried to pull the alien off.

"REALLY stubborn." Savior said as he got up, blinking the spots of his vision away as Gauntlet landed next to him.

"…Say, I know what would be helpful! BETELGEUSE BETELGEUSE BETEL-!"

Savior's violent punch sent Gauntlet sprawling.

"I apologize for that, but really, I think even you can see my justification." Savior said, and leapt to attack again.

* * *

"No no." Freddy said, as the Titans battled with Pumpkinhead. "Think bigger."

* * *

Gizmo was, as he would tell you, a genius. And while his talents mostly lay in mechanics, he was a smart cookie all around. He knew a few things about animals, including the fact that pigs could grow to giant sizes. 

They could NOT, however, grow to the size of a rhinoceros.

Which made the fact that there was a wild boar the size of a rhino charging down the hallway after Gizmo and his Hive companions all the worse. Not that a rhinoceros would be much better in that regard, but this gigantic boar seemed to be worse because it also wanted to eat them.

"This just keeps getting worse by the fucking second!" Sabotage snarled, his probability powers having proven not to work on the creature.

"How did we end up in this situation anyway?" Progeny asked.

"The damn thing snuck up on us!" Billy Numerous said, as he fled with the group in several bodies.

"SNUCK UP ON YOU? THAT DAMN THING MAKES AS MUCH NOISE AS A LOCOMOTIVE TRAIN! HOW COULD IT HAVE CAUGHT YOU BY SURPRISE?" Flay yelled.

"…wow, good for it!" Buzz Bomb commented. The running Hive members gave him a dirty look.

"Mammoth, go mash it into bacon or something!" Progeny yelled.

"You nuts? A super-large boar plus oily, greasy fur plus 15 inch tusks is a losing proposition! Even I KNOW THAT!"

"Why hasn't anyone tried shooting it!" Sabotage yelled as the group rounded a corner.

"You think that wasn't the first thing I tried? That damn aberration has virtually no nervous system! Conventional weapons will barely scratch it!" Gizmo yelled.

"And where are all your UNCONVENTIONAL weapons?" Flay asked.

"Uh well, um, trigger happy with goblins, drained power packs, uh…forget it!" Gizmo yelled, as the group kept fleeing.

As the door in front of them opened, and Brother Blood stepped out.

"THERE YOU ARE! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING…!"

"Run now yell later, headmaster!" Flay yelled as the group pushed past Blood. Furious, he whirled around

"YOU DEFY…wait…this happened the last time, why was…" Blood said, as he turned around again…and found himself face to face with a nine-ton boar. "Mommy."

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP!

Razorback ran on, leaving a mashed Brother Blood in his wake.

"Well, the Headmaster's dead…again. You know what this means?" Buzz Bomb said.

"Four day weekend?" Mammoth said.

"Four day weekend." Buzz Bomb replied.

"THERE WILL BE NO FOUR DAY WEEKENDS WHILE THERE IS STILL BREATH IN MY BODY!" Blood's voice yelled over the Hive's communicators.

"Isn't that pretty much what I said?" Buzz Bomb replied.

"I'M NOT DEAD YOU IDIOTS!"

"Ah nuts." Buzz Bomb said, and pulled out a cell phone. "Hey Captain Boomerang? Yeah, cancel the keg."

"Ugghhhh…" Blood moaned where he had been trampled. "They'd throw a four day party if I died? …Well, Machiavelli always said it was better to be feared then loved."

* * *

"Too true, too true!" Freddy said. "But even that's too small, lieutenant. I plan on thinking big." 

And Freddy looked away from the screens…and onto the massive form before him, the size of an 18 wheeler truck.

"And I mean BIG!"

* * *

_**Argh, dammit, this is below me…**_(DO YOUR JOB!)_** …ugh, Fine.**_

_**Pumpkinhead is from a movie called, well, Pumpkinhead. He's a demon of vengeance. I can relate. They made three sequels. The only ones who can relate to that kind of stupidity are probably the people reading this**_

(STOP INSULTING THE READERS!)

_**I'm the BAD GUY, remember oh creator. So are, you know, the main characters in this story? If the readers want charm and friendliness, they can go look somewhere else, because I still proclaim them idiots, and you a bigger one.**_

(Get back to work, or I'll make sure you're the star of Unseen Attractions 2)

_**NO! NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT! Ugh.**_

_**And for the other one, Razorback is from a film called…Razorback, yeah, I'm real surprised by the lack of originality too. It's about a gigantic mutant boar stomping around the veldt of Australia that…ok no, I can't go on. You stupid filmmakers! THE ONLY NATIVE PLACENTAL MAMMALS IN AUSTRALIA ARE BATS! Rabbits breaking out and reproducing, yes. Frogs? Totally. Camels? Introduced intentionally. BUT NO BOARS, DUMBASS! DO SOME FUCKING RESEARCH!**_

_**Plus, it's Australia. I don't care how big you are, if it goes down to the river it's gonna get snapped up by a croc.**_

_**Or maybe the ghost of Steve Irwin.**_

_**Yeah, I went there.**_

* * *

"Y'know, I've always wondered." The Handyman said, as he sat on what remained of the table section of the bar, looking over what remained of the really messed up Villain's Café. Sorceress was shrinking down the boxes of weapons again after everyone had reloaded, and Slade was busy outfitting Brick has a pack mule of sorts, having the bundles of weapons Killjoy had made earlier strapped to his back. There was also a giant gun near the pair, which Slade apparently wanted Brick to wield (he had a few other giant guns near the bar, most likely for Adonis). The rest of the bar was pretty much just sitting around, resting after the attack of the slasher army. 

"What, man?" Adonis asked.

"How much wood was used to make Puppet King?"

"Huh?" Puppet King said: yes, he was still alive, sliced and diced and chipped but still working, his wooden body making the chops he had taken the equivalent of being covered with bruises.

"Why?" Dr. Light asked as well.

"Well, it's such a waste of a good…" Handyman said, as he trailed off, looking uncertain, and then he leaned down and knocked on Puppet King twice. "Oak. I bet I could make some kickass bookends out of 'im."

"WHAT?" The marionette yelled.

"Oh be quiet dude. Once you got hit by that slasher you completely vanished from the last part: the author didn't even bother giving you a line to make the readers know you were still around, that's how important you are." Adonis said.

CRASH!

"The next one person who wrecks the fourth wall gets shot." Slade said calmly.

"At least I wasn't under it this time…" Puppet King moaned to himself.

"I mean, sure, there's some damage where he got axed and sliced and stuff, but what's left could be awesome." Handyman said.

"Stop talking like I'm here and completely useless!" Puppet King protested.

"What kind of bookends?" Adonis asked.

"Y'know, anything ya want. Frogs, horses, naked chicks…"

"How much would you charge for that last one?"

"Oh, fifty bucks."

"SLADE! SLADE!" Puppet King yelled as he waved his arms. "THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT MAKING ME BOOKENDS!"

"Really. Where is the part where I should care?"

"Uh…"

"I'm not your mother. Tattling to me every time you get in an argument isn't a good use of time." Slade said, and resumed tying stuff to Brick's back.

"BUT!"

"QUIET. If you keep this up, YOU'RE KINDLING." Slade snapped.

"Hey, I already called dibs on him being bookends!" Adonis called.

The wall next to Adonis exploded.

"The only reason you're alive is we may yet need your muscle. Quit while I still think you're necessary." Slade said.

"Well, whatever the case, still a waste of good wood." Handyman said. The Puppet King sighed.

"This might explain why I never appear in the Legendverse before or after this…" Puppet King lamented.

CRASH!

"Oops."

Slade's shotgun blast sent Puppet King flying into yet another wall, his body damaged again, but still fully functional. He groaned.

"Unlike this story, I do not joke." Slade said.

CRASH!

"…So does that mean you're going to shoot yourself now Slade?' Dr. Light asked.

The wall next to the photokinetic exploded, and he screamed and once again hid under a table.

"I'm not sure what's more of a waste of ammo: if these are warning shots or if they AREN'T warning shots." Slade said, not liking the concept that the atmosphere was screwing with his aim, as the Sorceress grudgingly approached the mercenary and put the traveling size boxes of guns and ammo in his hands. Slade pocketed them.

"Very good. One last thing Ithlian. See if you can't weave a spell on Brick's back to make absolutely sure those bundles don't fall off. Brick, don't go anywhere, as soon as I look something over I'm going to be back here with new instructions." Slade said, and walked several steps over to inspect the giant gatling gun that the mercenary had had removed from one of the boxes while reloading and rearming. The Sorceress snorted and looked at Brick, who didn't seem to mind too much about being turned into a pack mule.

"I might currently be at a disadvantage, but I don't see why you allow him to order you around now. You absorbed a blast from his weapon earlier without too much harm, and your power will have only increased, if but a bit, since then. So why let him treat you as a tool to be used?"

"He said he did not want to use Adonis. Something how he had severe doubts about his mental state." Brick said. "Besides…it does me no harm. If I have this strength, I may as well use it."

"Yes, but that kind of attitude tends to be focused in a different direction, at least from all the muscleheads I know. Yet you…why protect me Brick?'

"Vogel."

"Brick, that's the name I know. Guarding me for self-interest is one thing, but people who do that will only stick their neck out so much, if at all. You're not just doing that, you're almost taunting the guillotine to come down. Which is immensely strange considering the type of people we are 'supposed to be', at least in the feeble little specks the Titans and their fellows call brains." Sorceress said, as she plucked a few strings from what was left of her immensely low reserves and cast a relatively simple binding spell; enough to make sure the packages Slade had made stayed on during such things as motion or impact, but came off if a hand grabbed and yanked.

"You know my past pretty well." Brick said.

"…No, I don't." Sorceress said, as she walked around the front of Brick and cracked her fingers, loosening them up. "As far as I could tell, you were just some big idiot who listens to everything he was told. Or WERE, pardon me."

"Oh." Brick said. "Sorry, it's hard to remember who was told. Since at the time I was, well…"

"A blabbering fool."

"I protest. I never blabbered." Brick said. "I'm a biochemist by trade, and a damned good one at that. I learned that I was dying of a muscle condition. I was exercising right, eating a lot more protein than I really needed, and I was still wasting away, all due to a cruel quirk of my genetics. I was prescribed steroids, but nothing legal was strong enough to stop it. And I thought to myself, 'Here I am, a brilliant mind. I spent more than half my life learning how the human body works, and here I am dying of nothing that thirty years of training and experience prepared me for.' That was NOT acceptable."

"It never is, is it." The Sorceress said, in a strangely wistful tone that Brick couldn't quite nail down.

"No. So, I developed a formula that would basically tell my body to start building muscle mass at a fast enough rate that it would initially exceed the rate of degeneration, then match it."

"But you didn't bother testing it…"

"That was the trouble. I didn't have time for proper testing. And I misjudged how much I would need." Brick said, and gestured at the massive slab of muscle his body was now. "When I took it, I was about six feet tall, and while my muscular build was decent it swung more behind small and defined then giant masses of meat. The formula worked, stopping the degeneration…but my muscles kept growing and growing. I don't know how my bones grew as much as they did, considering the formula wasn't supposed to do that…the other problem of jumping straight to human testing. And the formula had another, worse unexpected side effect…you see, my formula consisted of various unpleasant chemicals in order to aid the steroids in jumpstarting my muscular growth, but I erred in more then one way in my haste when designing it, and as I found it, that error lay in that my body could not process the formula and flush it out of my system, like if it were say, alcohol. It's still in there." Brick said. "The trouble was, that mixture put a lot of strain on my organs when it was first in there. Caused them all minor damage. However, once the 'beneficial' part of the formula kicked in and started mutating my body, the rate of damage was greatly decreased: most of the enhanced healing actually exceeded the rate of damage. Unfortunately, it could not provide a healing factor for cells that do not naturally grow back. Those are two types in particular. The brain, and the nervous system."

"So shouldn't you be in a wheelchair then?"

"Oh no, lucky me. It seemed I had a genetic setup so it didn't damage my peripheral nervous system, and essentially left my central nervous system alone…except for, as you may have guessed, the brain." Brick said, with a bitter smirk. "By the time I caught on that something was wrong…well, it was too late: I'd suffered too much brain damage to remember where I'd PUT the formula, much less how to counteract it. At first, the brain damage caused me to revert to a more brutish, animal mindset, but even then I was susceptible to suggestion. It's similar to how the voodoo zombie works, actually: when you lose your sense of self, others can fill the void. Regrettably, those with less then honorable intentions found me first, and before I knew it I was a 'super villain'. And from that there was pretty much no going back, as my mindset decreased even more, going from brutish to child-like, to the point where I had to exert deep effort just to get out simple sentences, understand basic things…I suspect that should I revert to my damaged self when this magical curse is lifted it will continue until I am completely vegetative. Which brings up another question: I don't know WHY my intellect was restored when my strength was locked away. It just was."

"That's chaos magic for you. If one goes down, the other must go up. Does it make sense? Does it follow the rules of biology or even basic physics? Who cares? That's why it's called CHAOS magic. Tasty stuff…but in the way a fugu fish is." The Sorceress said.

"…It still doesn't make sense…then again, none of my life has made sense ever since I made that damned formula." Brick said.

"At least you're still alive."

"Alive? To a very real extent, I've been dead for five years."

"Bah." The Sorceress semi-spat, apparently ticked off at Brick's choice of words. "You humans. You create your precious field called science, and then you proceeded to fail in it over and over and over, unable to get ANYTHING right in the setup you so eagerly embraced. You only find cures and beneficial processes by sheer chance, while you endlessly slave away at creating poisons, foulness, choking oblivion, paving over and crushing all that's natural, sucking the life from it…even when you try to do something, try and utilize what you created well…try and make a balance…all you can think of is not what can it do for you but what can it twist and ruin next…to the point where you have no choice but to kill someone to free them from the curse…always…all the time…" The Sorceress said, as she trailed off from her rant from the look Brick was giving her.

"Are you quite done yet?"

"You'd think my words would ring especially true to you."

"That's because you misunderstand. I know I messed up. That's what science is all about: messing up and figuring out why. Excuse us if we haven't had as long as you magicians to test the limits of our field. Besides…it wasn't science that turned these stupid movies real."

"Hmmpphh. Well, Control Freak has…but overall, I suppose." The Sorceress said, as she sat down in another chair. "Still, my whole point was that your behavior is not exactly self-preserving."

"I'm not like you people." Brick said. "I'm not a bad person. A flawed person, definitely. But not a bad person."

"Then perhaps you don't belong?" Sorceress posed.

"…Probably not. But at the moment, I don't have much of a choice. But at least I HAVE a choice now. I've spent years serving others against my will. And I do honestly think…"

Brick trailed off so abruptly for a moment Sorceress thought he'd been sneak-killed, but no new threat had emerged: Brick was just staring ahead.

"Brick? Brick?"

Brick blinked.

"…Right. I honestly think that you are the key to our survival as a whole." Brick said. Sorceress raised an eyebrow, wondering about the abrupt pause.

She came to a few conclusions, but none that did anyone any good if they were raised. So she stayed silent.

"So I'll do that. I'm tough. Why not take a few hits for the team? Let there be ONE hero in this den of iniquity."

"That may not be the wisest yoke to take." Slade said as he suddenly spoke up, having returned to the pair. "While the lesser skilled of us 'self-serving rogues' may have met early and unpleasant ends, it's those who foolishly decide to be noble who often die last."

"Well Slade, if I do die, I'm going to go with a song in my heart. And I'll inflict it on the lot of you with my voice, and you'll probably wish you died instead."

"Hmmmmm. Perhaps." Slade replied. "I have finished the weapons inspections Brick, so come with me so we can properly outfit you. It should not be hard with your size and strength, but just to be certain…" Slade said, as he turned and headed back for the giant gatling gun, Brick following with slow, careful steps.

"Sheesh." Blackfire said, sitting at the bar again. "Someone turn on the air conditioning. It's too hot."

"…Um…uhhh…" Adonis said.

"WHAT?"

"…You're wearing three sweaters?"

"SO?"

"…What do sweaters do?"

"Oh gee, MAKE THINGS HOT, GENIUS. TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING."

"Uh…or maybe you could…take a sweater or two off?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, you horndog. The thought of my soft, supple flesh makes you horny, doesn't it? NOW DO WHAT I SAID!"

"…I don't know how to turn on the air conditioning. That was Punk Rocket's job."

"_**THEN GET GOING AND FIND IT!" **_Blackfire roared, as she formed a good-sized Blackbolt. Adonis fled the bar.

"…Bitch." Kurai commented.

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

There was a series of clicks as Kurai, Rose, and even Slade all aimed guns at the alien.

"An accuracy. Fall silent." Slade said. Blackfire glared at them, and then grabbed her bottle of alcohol and retreated a few stools down.

"Well, it is reassuring that someone has had their personality unchanged." Kurai commented. Slade glanced at his apprentice, unable to tell if he was being sarcastic.

Farther down the bar, Jack sat, drinking yet another bottle of alcohol. Despite his insane constitution, even he was starting to feel the effects…and it wasn't helping his thought process any, as he looked across the bar. He only had eyes for one man: 'Doctor' Westminster, who seemed to be eager to prove his name or keep up his act as he looked at the White Hole's injuries suffered from the gunfire she'd absorbed.

Bah. Such behavior was not fitting from a man who had any sense of pride. Who helped birdies? They were there to screw, not patch up! Make them bleed, not stop! Of course, that was just one of many things wrongs with the 'good doctor', along with his convenience at showing up, his furtive motions to keep his face hidden, and the fact that he actually had wandered off and came back, and who knew what he'd done in that time frame?

Why couldn't anyone SEE it? It was right in front of them!

Oh right, Jack knew.

"They all think I'm mad." Jack said, to himself and mostly quiet, as he took another swig. "Yep, old mad Jack. That's all I am!…They're probably right. Wait, would it be out of character to admit that? Oh, who cares? But still! I'M RIGHT ABOUT THIS! I KNOW I'M RIGHT ABOUT THIS! That Westminster has to be a spy!"

And who says there HAS to be a spy, a voice chimed in somewhere.

"Oh there's a spy! THAT KNOCKOFF RUINED IT LAST YEAR. I would have won! But it had to be the thief! And on top of that who knew Slade would make millions betting a few cents on Buzz Bomb? WHO KNEW THAT USELESS BASTARD WOULD LAST MORE THEN FIVE SECONDS? Well fuck it, fuck it all. I know. And y'know what else? I'm gonna win, win what who knows, but I'm gonna win and then I'm going to get me a birdie, like maybe the bitch who's been muttering down at the other end of the bar for five minutes straight GOD she's annoying…but yeah. It's gotta be Westminster. Because…he's British. And pointy. JUST LIKE WHATHISNAME, CAPTAIN GRAYSTROKE or whatever he's called. The alien what ain't a birdy. But only I know. But fuck all those fucks. This experience has taught me that I only have two friends. Jack Daniels and The Great Gazoo." Jack said, as he looked up at the floating green alien.

"You wish, dumb dumb. I'm sick of your homicidal perversion. I'm going back to Bedrock."

Jack's hand jerked up as he seized the Great Gazoo and strangled the life out of him.

"That was for the last season of the Flintstones, you prick." Jack said, as he tossed the body aside.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Blackfire snapped.

"No." Jack replied.

"…Did you just strangle thin air for some reason?"

"That's what YOU think."

"Whatever." Blackfire said, and went elsewhere.

"Stupid Gazoo. It was your cousin Gazork that made me find out how fun chokin' the life out birdies was, I guess you're no better then the thief…" Jack said, and continued to ramble on in a quasi-drunken manner.

Westminster was at the moment unaware of just how Jack's toxic suspicions were stewing in his mind, as he was doing his job and looking over the White Hole. At Nightwalker's request, he noted, as the alien didn't seem to care she had been a step away from being turned into swiss cheese. Westminster had met the type before, the 'real-deal blowhards', who were legitimately tough, and tough as hell, but unable to accept themselves from being anything less then invincible. A few of them were in charge of what had happened to him, after all.

Still, he was impressed.

"Your armor managed to block or deflect most of the shots." Westminster said as he got up. "Those that went in, they didn't go far. Your skin seemed to absorb a lot of the impact, and your muscles and bones…well let's just say I'm impressed how they could be so dense while still allowing swift movement."

"My reputation is not unearned." The White Hole said, and waved the doctor off. Westminster looked a touch insulted, as he had been trying to help, but then again such was the way of these types, as Westminster nodded to Nightwalker and moved on. At least the newly blonde girl nodded back.

"Are you satisfied?" The White Hole said to Nightwalker.

"I know that outside that fluke of a manifestation with a gun, which was unexpected, you annihilated the competition. But there's no guarantee that whatever comes next will be handled with similar ease. Best to know your body will be up to the task."

"You should be more concerned with yours." The White Hole said. "Even with your new weapon."

"…Yeah…" Nightwalker said, as she brought the elongated, curved blade before her, drawing it from the sheath. Light reflected along its surface.

"That is an extraordinarily crafted weapon." The White Hole said. "Almost tragic that was so unrecognized for the blade to be kicked into a corner."

"Well, I don't think anyone at the time knew a katana would come in handy." Nightwalker replied.

"True." Slade said, having come near the pair while they were speaking due to the motion of his other tasks. "But that's not a katana Miss Sine. That's a nodachi, a larger variant of the katana…which brings up a question. May I see that blade, Miss Sine?"

Nightwalker handed it over.

"Hmmmmmmmm…interesting. The nodachi was not used as much as some Japanese weapons due to several issues, including weight. An amateur should not be able to just pick the sword up and swing it around like it is a toy, and I assume you are an amateur, Miss Sine."

"Pretty much."

"Yet this blade feels like it weights about as much as a rapier, if that." Slade said, as he placed the sword on his outstretched hand with the other and then let go. The blade stayed there, balanced on Slade's hand. "Perfectly balanced as well. Which should not be the case with the weapon as mysteriously light as it is."

"That is because of this." The Sorceress said as she came over herself and pointed. "Turn the blade over Slade."

Slade did so…and finally saw the myriad amount of etchings on the other side, running the entire length of the metal.

"Magic runes. More then a few forbidden ones that require blood sacrifice among them…though in a group like this, forbidden is a relative term." The Sorceress said. "Runes of skill and runes of balance. That's why the sword feels so light to you, and yet is perfectly level. That's not all. There's runes of endurance, they keep the sword from breaking and dulling, and runes of sharpening, far more then needed really, that explained why you were able to cut through the chaos manifestations like they were butter instead of flesh and bone young lady. I suspect this blade could cut through steel, there's so many runes enhancing its edge. And there's a few runes that related to the Lord's powers that won't work for you at all, Nightwalker, but I will say the basic setup gives you enough favor…all things considered." Sorceress said, looking at Nightwalker's 'cursed parts'.

"Can you do ANYTHING about that?" Nightwalker asked.

"Maybe if I was stronger…and inclined to. And that is why I must speak to you Slade." The Sorceress said.

"As you will." Slade replied, as he gave the sword back and went off with the master mage. Nightwalker looked at the blade again…as it was finally illuminated in such a way that she could read the name on the side in front of her, the other side being covered with runes.

"Lightscourge." Nightwalker read out loud, and gave the blade a few experimental swings, marveling at just how weightless the blade seemed.

"You think he'd mind you using that?" The White Hole asked.

"He's dead. If I hadn't used it, I might be dead as well. And not just me. I think that's all the justification I need." Nightwalker said, as she lowered Lightscourge back into her lap.

"…Right." The White Hole said. "Speaking of which…thanks."

Nightwalker looked at the alien, arching an eyebrow.

"Not that I'm doubting the truth of your words…just curious: how long has it been since you thanked another being?"

"Honestly?"

"I'd prefer it."

"In your terms of time…long. Very long…maybe too long. I was a member of the elite, perhaps the most powerful that all Blacktrinians living today had ever seen…I didn't need to thank people."

"Well, I suppose that's to be expected. Not to mention you probably wouldn't be prone to thinking you'd thank someone you'd written off as dead."

The White Hole's face was unreadable, but Nightwalker took that in stride.

"…Then again, that was only…human of you. A touch too human, if you know what I mean, but I guess for the sake of the survival, I will not act human in turn and hold it against you." Nightwalker said, and gave Lightscourge a twirl. "Let this atmosphere, this world, target me as it will. I won't bow to it."

"…Actually…I'm going to be honest with you now." The White Hole said. "It wasn't for the same reason the others had."

"Oh, really? What was it then?"

The White Hole was silent, clearly not happy with the train of thought she'd followed earlier. The type of silence that ended conversations without answers, Nightwalker noted.

"Do you still think the reason true?"

The White Hole remembered the way Nightwalker had carved her way across the room, after the manifestation had surprised her, and how the only bad luck had befallen those she had struck down. Yet…such beliefs were eons old in the Empire, could one really just shuck them off…

…

"…I have my doubts." The White Hole said. "But I'm willing to overlook them, as it's not the real you."

"I'll take that." Nightwalker said, and offered a hand. The White Hole stared at it, confused as hell. "Oh, sorry. They don't have a gesture like that where you come from?"

"What…uh…well in a sense…" The White Hole said, and put her hand in Nightwalker's in a comradely clench…

That White Hole slammed on the 'brakes' in a screaming, too close fashion, literally a quarter of a second before she crushed the woman's hand into a bloody piece of gristle. Not because of some reason like say, she harbored her true feelings inside and they were hostile, but because of the simple reason that the White Hole had not shaken hands or anything in that vein for…possibly ever. And more importantly, even though it was still considerably sealed, her strength outclassed Nightwalker's many times: she could cripple the girl without having any intention to.

And it struck her, even as she managed a safe handshake, just how breakable the girl was. She'd escaped from some lackluster (well, in some ways at least) killers, but who knew what was going to come? And only Freddy knew when it was going to end…which reminded the White Hole of what Nightwalker had said.

_The longer the effect is in place, the stronger it becomes._

And the stronger the dangers that would come in turn, White Hole mused. That was troubling enough…but one look at Nightwalker, with her ballooned mammeries and newly blonde hair, reminded the White Hole how the atmosphere had personally targeted her. It hadn't worked so far…but that was so far.

And yet, Nightwalker showed little concern, taking things as they came. And not in the way the White Hole had once done so, blithely considering herself invincible and unstoppable (until life had taught her the hard way how wrong she was). No, she knew she was breakable, that she was personally vulnerable…and yet she looked upon it with as calm and measured a viewpoint as any warrior the White Hole had ever known.

And the White Hole doubted Nightwalker had her…special setup.

Her death seemed almost guaranteed. A death that might be demeaning, agonizing, and gruesome. The White Hole knew a few things about such deaths, and how one could tell what a creature truly was when faced with such a possibility.

And Nightwalker…a human…was…hmmmm.

She was swinging Lightscourge around again, trying to adjust herself with the weapon, and the White Hole shook off her musing.

"Have you been trained with blades?" She asked.

"A very brief lessons. The very bare basics." Nightwalker said, as she chopped with the sword. "All the runes on this thing should help…as long as they last, if that is the case."

"Well, there are a few universal rules with blades." The White Hole said. "I assume you know the best place to go for is the head."

"Yes…but what if they don't have a head?"

"…Well…yes, vital areas can sometimes be tricky to pinpoint. As a general rule, one should exercise extreme caution when battling a foe that lacks a discernible head or limbs, or can infect you with something."

"Right…how many horror monsters could fit under that category…" Nightwalker said, as she began making a mental listing…a list that turned out considerably longer then she expected. The White Hole said a flicker of fear pass over the woman's face.

"I need a drink." Nightwalker said, and left the alien. She watched her go, as she headed over to the bar to see if she could find anything left that would strike her taste.

"Do not indulge too much, Miss Sine. A warning for your sake." Slade said, as Nightwalker reached the bar, as the master mercenary and his two apprentices were sitting there as well, Slade having listened to the Sorceress complain that he kept using up her power and that they were setting themselves up when they would need it. Slade smelled a small rat though, and wondered if the Sorceress really was as drained and as weak as she claimed. Slade had a feeling that if she was, she'd be considerably more scared, even with her new 'bodyguard' Brick, yet Slade hadn't read that level of fear from her. He'd keep that in mind, as Nightwalker selected several bottles, put them down on the bar, and then looked each over a few times before selecting one and leaving, heading back to sit with the alien.

He noticed his daughter reaching for a bottle too.

"That warning goes to you too as well, Rose." Slade said, as he began thinking. Weapons were re-armed, guns were put away unless needed, and Slade was alert, so he recalled he had to devote some mental effort to another task, what was it again…

"Don't worry about me, Daddy-O." Rose said, as she selected a bottle of alcohol. "50 Proof? Don't worry booze, you don't have to prove anything. I love you anyway." Rose said, as she hugged the bottle.

It was much like a record screeching to a halt, as Slade stared at his daughter, as did several other nearby villains, who all seemed embarrassed, including the cat Rose had become attached to (yes, it was still hanging around). Indeed, the only differing reaction was Kurai, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He'd forgotten that outside of battle-fueled adrenaline that Rose had become…this.

And Slade had finally had a clear enough mind to catch it fully, as he stared at his daughter, who had just said…

"…Rose, did you just insinuate that the marker on the bottle relates not to its alcoholic content, but the notion it needs to provide evidence of some sort?" Slade asked.

"If you say so!" Rose replied.

Slade stared at his daughter a moment more…and then his gaze turned to settle on a nearby villain. A very particular nearby villain, Control Freak.

"Eeep." Control Freak said.

"A MOMENT, MR. EXPERT." Slade snapped as he stood up, grabbed Control Freak, and dragged him across the room, as he yanked out a handgun and pressed it against his forehead. "EXPLAIN WHAT HAS HAPPENED."

"Um, well, first there was the Big Bang, and then the hydrogen collected into stars, which went nova, creating a series of progressively denser elements, which eventually formed the Earth, and then…!"

Slade cocked the hammer back.

"Um…in regards to what specifically?"

"Did you somehow just miss that?" Slade snapped.

"Well, I'm pretty good at appearing to be paying attention to something, when in reality I'm really quite focused on something else."

"Really. Even so…." Slade began, and then took a closer look at Control Freak's vision and realized he wasn't looking at Slade, he was looking past him. Oogling Nightwalker again, it seemed.

Slade got his full attention by grinding the barrel of the gun into his forehead.

"FOCUS." He snapped. "Now, the problem, which in retrospect you may not have seen but it's too late to go back now."

"Um…gimme the short version?" Control Freak asked. Slade's eye narrowed.

"My daughter normally possesses an IQ of 143. She just uttered a statement that is more in line if she possessed an IQ relating to her shoe size. And now that I am finally free to give it a moment of thought, this is not the first time. These comments began at around the same time as the problem. I do not think this is a coincidence."

"Well then. She's obviously being turned into an archetype. Now, from what you say, there are two archetypes that would be that dumb. The Stoner and the Bimbo. Do we already have a stoner?"

"Mumbo seemed fond of cannabis before his untimely demise." Slade said, in a tone reminding Control Freak where that untimely demise had come from.

"Then it isn't the Stoner. And we already have our jock, and that's a male role anyway. Sorry man, but it appears your kid's been magically lobotomized."

"…Is this permanent?"

"I don't think so! It should wear off when the…atmosphere does."

"…Very well. What are the aspects of this archetype?"

"Dumb, blonde, big chested, and horny as hell."

"Really. Well Miss Sine seems to have been inflicted with two of those, and her mind seems unaffec…ted…wait." Slade said, as a few puzzle pieces fell into place, as he let Control Freak go and headed back to his apprentices.

"Kurai." Slade said, as Kurai furiously tried to keep a blank face. "A word, please."

"Yes, master?"

"You seem happy."

"…Uh…I do?"

"More to the point, you're not cursing and ranting about the situation, which is really about as close to the classic type of contentment most people demonstrate. So you're happy. And you haven't killed nearly enough people you have a specific grudge against to be happy."

"Well Slade-sama, there has been carnage nonetheless, and one can sometimes take gratification in just doing an efficient job."

"KURAI." Slade said in a low, firm tone. All the villains were purposely ignoring the pair, having a funny feeling that if they bothered Slade they'd end up his latest victim (it was kind of disheartening Slade currently had a higher body count of their number for the night then any of the horror manifestations). "Answer me truthfully, UPON YOUR HONOR. My daughter has obviously been turned into a bimbo by this curse. And according to the 'expert', bimbo equals sex kitten. DID YOU DEFLOWER MY DAUGHTER?"

Kurai stared…and though for a moment.

_Well, she did seem to know what she was doing._

"No, Slade-sama." Kurai quickly replied.

"…You seem awfully nervous about that answer, Kurai."

"Well, er, um…"

"THE TRUTH."

And just before Kurai was going to scream 'SHE RAPED ME!', it happened, as a sudden and VERY loud noise sounded outside the bar, seemingly emitting from the alleyway outside.

Slade jerked his head away from his apprentice.

"…I suspect new trouble is arriving. Get ready." Slade said, as he turned away from Kurai, the Japanese teen breathing a deep sigh of relief as Slade snatched up his shotgun and began arming it. "Remember what I said, try not to…wait." Slade said, as he realized something about the noise. "That did not sound subtle, and if that noise was made on purpose during the course of movement that suggests…"

Slade never got to finish his declaration: that he suspected whatever was coming could be quite large.

He was, to no comfort to him, right.

As the massive form exploded through the wall and sent a shower of stone and metal debris blasting through the room, causing most if not all of the villains to recoil or fall down as it stomped in, throwing tables and chairs aside to add to the barrage of aerial wreckage. The whole bar shook from its steps, the lights swinging overhead as a cloud of dust bloomed in turn from the violent entrance of the entity.

Puppet King, near the entrance of the creature, managed to turn around in time for something huge to slam into him and send him flying across the bar, where he was embedded in the wall head first.

Slade, having thrown himself to the side, slowly rose to his feet, blinking as the remaining light illuminated the massive creature, which towered over even Brick and Atlas. It was some kind of machine…except parts of it looked alarmingly organic…no, they WERE organic: the mechanical creature was a twisted fusion of flesh and cybernetics, done in a very 'jury-rigged' looking style. The machine stood on six spider-like legs, it's torso attached to the legs via a reinforced cybernetic spinal-esque design, two massive arms and shoulders extending from an equally massive upper body, the back extending upward above the head unnaturally in a hump-like fashion, the head extending out on a somewhat elongated neck, the actual cranium a nightmare mess of flesh and machine, over a dozen red mechanical eyes looking unblinkingly above a twitching and jerking mechanical proboscis of elaborate design. The whole body was constantly in motion, as parts shifted and twisted around, the giant machine creature moving slightly as if testing its footing as its unblinking red eyes stared back at Slade.

As Control Freak, thrown onto his ass, gulped.

"Oh shit. The Virus thing."

"…you do not look like a bloodthirsty lunatic wearing a mask." Slade said in a mildly annoyed, resigned tone.

"How unfortunate, for you." The Goliath Machine replied.

* * *

_**The Goliath Machine is from a movie called Virus, starring scream queen Jamie Lee Curtis. It's an alien lifeform, seemingly electrical in design, that got beamed onto a big Russian ship and preceded to start making minions for itself by salvaging all the equipment on the ship, as well as the humans on it, for spare parts. It ultimately used all the best bits to build a body for itself, dubbed the 'Goliath Machine'. Jamie Lee Curtis has claimed Virus is the worst film she's ever starred in. You're quite wrong Miss Curtis. Your worst film is Freaky Friday, for hoisting Lindsay Lohan on the world, and I'll make sure that if you die for anything, you die for that!**_

* * *

"This situation, is over." Goliath said: the voice that came from the giant machine was an odd mix of deep mellifluousness and mechanical modulation, as part of its head shifted up and what looked to be a makeshift gun snapped up and out, clicking as it armed. "If you surrender, this will be far…" 

The makeshift gun exploded as Slade blew it apart with his shotgun.

"Same goes to you." Slade replied, as Goliath twisted its head and glared as best as its mechanical face allowed: the glowing red eyes and shifting mechanics actually allowed a decent approximation.

"Then die. Screaming." Goliath said, and swung a massive clamp-claw hand at Slade.

Slade dodged out of the way, rolled to his feet, and opened fired once more, his shotgun tearing into Goliath as it gave a mechanical shriek (of what, Slade didn't know, in theory it couldn't feel pain or get angry). But the weapon did seemingly no damage, and the opposite didn't looking to hold true, as parts of Goliath opened, armed, shifted out, and whatnot as a assembly of juryrigged weapons emerged from its body.

"Damn." Slade said, and leapt away as Goliath opened fire, his armaments tearing through the bar and causing another explosion of flying debris as Slade rolled behind a table and flipped it up to avoid getting riddled with a spray of deadly nails, as Goliath fired those, more generic metal shrapnel, arcs of electricity, and even laser weapons at the villains, as the masses all exploded into action they really should have taken several seconds earlier as Goliath stomped around the café.

Not that it helped Slade much: a laser exploded near Handyman and with a shriek of pure terror he ran for it, fleeing out of the back door. Dr. Light was right on his heels, goddamn spineless bastards both. Well, not EVERYONE was running: Nightwalker and the White Hole were trying to get out of the giant machine's way, Brick was trying to guard Sorceress, and Slade couldn't see most of the rest. They were probably running around like decapitated chickens as well.

This would not do at all.

"KURAI! ROSE! COVER FIRE! NOW!" Slade yelled, and then rolled out of the way as Goliath tried to smash him, shattering the table. Slade leapt up and swung his shotgun around again, but Goliath was too close and caught him with a brushing blow from one of his weaving legs, knocking him down and sending his shotgun flying.

Fortunately, at that point Killjoy stepped in, as he opened fire with his twin 1911-A1 handguns nearby, even as Kurai and Rose finally initiated his order and attacked with energy blasts and gunfire of their own. Nightwalker added to the salvo with blasts from her personal orb weapon system, and fire erupted on Goliath as her napalm orbs smashed against its body.

It got Goliath's attention away from Slade, which gave him a few seconds to think. And it was clear fighting Goliath in here was a losing proposition: he was far too large. A tactical retreat was in order.

Brick was carrying the majority of the weapons, both the bundled and the shrunk boxes. His exit was a priority. He'd need more cover fire.

Fortunately, Slade had enough foresight to not put away ALL the big guns. He just had to reach them.

Blackfire aided him in that, as she attacked Goliath herself, blasting away with her Blackbolt ability. Unfortunately, her abilities were still curtailed to a notable degree, and hence all she managed were three weak shots before she was struck by an electrical attack and sent screaming across the room, where she hit the wall and fell to the ground, jerking briefly. Slade, already in motion, only gave her the briefest of glances to see if she was alive: she was, her sweaters had caught fire and she was frantically pulling them off.

Adonis was at the bar desperately trying to get the large MG-34 machine gun Slade had given him to work. Slade snorted in disgusted.

"Forget it! Get out! Out the back door! NOW!" Slade yelled, as he grabbed the weapons he'd been looking for: twin Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifles with 100 round double-drum barrel ammo clips. Hoisting both, he tucked one under his arm and turned around.

"ASSASSIN!" He yelled at Killjoy, and as the silent killer turned at his call he tossed the other machine gun at him.

In one smooth motion, Killjoy had put his handguns away and gotten his hands back up to catch the new weapon, as he turned and resumed fire on Goliath from it, as Slade brought his own weapon up and added to the bullet spray. Goliath emitted another mechanical shriek as it thrashed around, trying to get at the insects that incessantly stung at it.

"You heard the man. Let's go, Ithlian!" Brick said. "We'd best…!"

And then another arc of electrical power zapped out, and Brick twisted and let the bolt slam into his shoulder, grunting as he felt the painful energy tear through his body on its way to the ground. But his heart remained beating, which was all that mattered.

"Brick?" Sorceress asked.

"GO!" Brick grunted, still trying to get his muscles working properly.

And, faced with a manifestation of the technology she hated so much, and with far too little power (blasted Slade with all his shrinking and binding nonsense!) to do anything about it, the Sorceress fled.

For two steps.

"OW!" She shrieked, as she stumbled and fell to her knees. "I sprained my ankle!"

"You what?" Brick said, and then remembered what rules they were functioning under, as he staggered over and helped Sorceress up. "Lean on me. Let's go!"

"I will-OW! I sprained my other ankle!" Sorceress said as she fell down again.

"Misogynists in B-films, I really do…hate you at the moment." Brick commented.

Nightwalker flipped over a broken table and fired the last of her explosive orbs, and even as they blasted on Goliath she went to her belt for reloads…

As Goliath twisted and fired a spray of nails and metal shrapnel at her, and Nightwalker was forced to dodge aside…and sprawled on the ground as the ground shifted under Goliath's weight. A sitting duck, she looked up as Goliath bore down on her…

And then, with a snarling bellow, the White Hole struck, leaping up on Goliath's back and swinging her mace down, crushing it into Goliath's body like it was made of paper mache. Goliath let loose another mechanical scream and stormed and twisted around, smashing what was left of the café to ruins as he tried to get the alien off, even as the White Hole kept smashing and clawing, like she was possessed.

"…Rebecca?" Nightwalker said in confusion: had the alien…done that for her? Or had it just been timing?

"CEASE FIRE!" Slade yelled: his clip had run dry anyway. "RETREAT! GET OUT! NO-!"

And then with a powerful lash, Goliath's leg slashed out and struck Slade broadside, sending him flying with an angry yell as he crashed through the left hand wall of the café, said wall collapsing after his 'exit'.

"DADDY!" Rose shrieked.

"He can take care of himself! Let's go Rose-kun!" Kurai said as he grabbed Rose and tried to pull her along.

"But daddy…and kitty? Where's the kitty?" Rose wailed.

"FORGET THE KITTY! WE HAVE TO…!"

And then Kurai yelled as a line of fired metal shrapnel crossed his path, embedding several jagged chunks in his chest and leg. If Slade hadn't convinced him to start wearing body armor, it would have been a lot worse, but it still hurt.

"GO!" He snarled, pushing a whining Rose along. Though Rose didn't know it, her 'kitty' had safely fled, probably the second Goliath had entered. Showing he was the smartest one in the whole room, probably, as Kurai dragged Rose along, peppering Goliath with a few more finger blasts as he did.

"OW! I SPRAINED BOTH MY ANKLES! AGAIN!" The Sorceress yelled.

"How could you do that…forget it." Brick said as he picked Sorceress up. "I'd like to see this atmosphere try and sprain MY ankles!"

And then three nails embedded themselves in Brick's skull, causing him to stagger.

"…ow…ow." Brick said: his immensely tough skin, muscle, and bone had stopped the projectiles from reaching brain, but it still hurt like hell. "Perhaps I should have stayed quiet."

Jack Djinn, freshly sobered by adrenaline, sprang over another broken table, heading for the exit door…passing Puppet King, still struggling to get out of the wall. With a smirk, he grabbed the puppet and yanked, pulling him free.

"Might need a good battering ram." Jack said, as he ran through said exit. Adonis followed him, just managing to get through the doorframe.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Blackfire cursed as Dr. Westminster tried to help her up.

"Ma'am, I'd rather not, but it's the decent thing to do!" Dr. Westminster replied as he continued trying to help Blackfire up.

A punch from the alien knocked him sprawling.

"Fuck off!" Blackfire growled. "You want decent, you're in the wrong place!"

And with that the alien picked herself up and fled, Brick and Sorceress following her despite Brick constantly stepping and tripping on the Sorceress' long robe. Dr. Westminster groaned to himself, picked his hat up, and placed it back on as he himself left. As the saying when, always the bitches that glitches.

As Goliath's laser weapons flashed out, and White Hole bellowed as several thin beams pierced through her body, finally immobilizing her enough for the giant machine creature to grab her and smash her into the ground. The floor shook and groaned ominously.

"Rebecca!" Nightwalker called, as the White Hole fought her way up…

As Goliath lifted a leg, parts of it snapping away as it elongated into a deadly blade, and then it stabbed out, impaling itself through the White Hole's torso as she bellowed once more, pinned on the spot by the giant, pointed limb, like a butterfly under glass.

"Shit! Fuck! LET HER GO!" Nightwalker yelled as she snapped in an acid orb clip and fired, aiming for the head. Goliath squealed as the acid exploded on its constructed skull, the immensely powerful fluoro-antimonic caustic sizzling into its head, as Nightwalker, realizing that maybe she should have saved one of those acid orbs for the leg that had impaled the White Hole, stared at it for a second…and then on a desperate guess drew the Lightscourge and slashed down.

It wasn't as smooth as a knife through butter, but the enchanted sword cut through Goliath's leg, and the machine lost its balance and partially fell, even as the White Hole staggered back and fell to one knee.

"Come on! Let's go!" Nightwalker ordered as she got under the White Hole's left shoulder and started dragging her to the exit, even as Killjoy beat his own retreat, firing what was left of his clip in short bursts.

"I don't need help…" The White Hole whispered.

"Then gut me." Nightwalker snapped back, and continued aiding the alien in her retreat, the alien's steps still a touch unsure.

Killjoy reached the door as his gun ran dry. He discarded it.

And Goliath roared and charged forward, bearing down on Nightwalker as she snarled and tried to get an arm up to fire.

It loamed over her as metal projectiles flew…

And then suddenly Goliath…slowed. Not in hesitation: it literally slowed to a crawl…including the projectiles it had fired…like it was…

A recording, as Control Freak somehow showed freakish stealth despite his girth and popped up with his remote aimed at the beast, smirking on how he'd just saved Nightwalker's ass.

"Oh you can bet THIS favor will be called in." He grinned.

Nightwalker kicked him in the ankle.

"I'll be dead first." Nightwalker snapped as she pulled the White Hole to the door, where Killjoy was still standing, preparing another gun.

And the Handyman suddenly appeared in the door frame again.

"Has anyone found the damn key? I swear if you keep locking the doors like that, I might just have to stop bolting at the first sign of danger…"

As Control Freak's brief effect wore off and Goliath resumed his charge, as Control Freak screamed, barely avoiding the already airborne projectiles as he fled…

As Nightwalker and White Hole, now finally back on her feet, the leg still impaled through her side (in a Blacktrinian elite warrior's case though, that was 'tis but a scratch' territory: she'd been worse affected by the lasers, which had shocked her flammable circulatory system as well as put a few extra holes in her. A little more heat and she could have exploded…), fled through the back door, Control Freak on their heels.

As Killjoy finished arming his Hawk MM-1 grenade launcher, wound the spring, and opened fire, the incendiary grenades exploding on Goliath's body as the machine beast reared up from the assault…

And the sudden shift in weight proved to be the back-breaking straw for the camel, or rather the floor, as the whole base beneath Goliath's feet shattered and buckled…

Including a part under Handyman's feet, throwing him forward and nearly into Control Freak, who once again somehow dodged despite his girth.

"AIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Handyman shrieked, as he fell into the darkness even as Goliath did. Control Freak blinked, then decided better him then himself and went through the exit door, as Killjoy fired three final shots into the ceiling of the bar and ran as the whole place came down in a thunderous racket.

The assassin joined the villains, now all clustered around a gigantic steel door that Adonis, Brick, Blackfire, and Jack were all pounding on, in Jack's case with Puppet King's yelling and protesting body. But even with all four, they were having no success in breaking through.

"Was this in the original game plan? FUCK! I hate it when the coach changes the hand signals!" Adonis cursed,

"I know this door, but it's not supposed to be HERE! Accursed atmosphere!" Sorceress cursed.

"Step aside! I'll blast it down!" Kurai ordered. "With Slade-sama dead, I am now the leader!"

"What? Who appointed YOU, fuckstick?" Jack snapped.

"The power that will be reducing your brain to steamed clumps if you don't…"

"Don't fight! That's what it wants!" Nightwalker said, as she left the White Hole leaning against the wall as she pushed through the crowd of villains in the not exactly wide hallway.

"Yeah! Listen to D-Cup!" Control Freak said.

"You're going to be D-capitated if you don't knock it off, Freak." Nightwalker tossed back as she reached the door. She'd heard what the recently departed Handyman (poor bastard) said about a key, and she had a suspicion.

A correct one: this wasn't a typical keyhole. It was the size of two fingers.

Just right for a sword, as she stuck the Lightscourge in and twisted. There was a deep clack, and the door opened up.

"…not going to examine the teeth." Brick said, as he went through the door, the rest of the villains following.

"Guess birdies have some use." Jack said as he went through. Nightwalker glowered at him: Jack returned a wicked grin, even as he dumped Puppet King on the ground, as the battered wooden midget moaned and staggered after the group, as Nightwalker retracted the sword from the special lock and returned to the White Hole.

"What's the status Styles?"

With a snarling yell, the White Hole yanked Goliath's leg free from her body, dropping it as a fresh gout of blood sprayed onto her clothes and the floor, hissing as the virulent liquid ate into it. Nightwalker's eyes widened.

"Looks worse than it is." The alien said.

A deep low roar, combined with a thunderous shudder, sounded behind the pair.

"I suggest continued motion for the next step." The White Hole said. Sine nodded and the pair moved on.

"Now, as I was saying-OW!" Kurai yelled from the front of the group, as he pulled one of the shards of shrapnel free. "I should now be the leader!"

"But…I'd make a great leader! I'd be super special awesome!" Rose protested.

"Yeah, let the Jap lead, we'll be being raped by tentacles within an hour I'd bet." Jack groused.

"What's THAT supposed to mean?"

"If anything, Miss Ithlian should be the leader when she's recovered, she's the most powerful and the most knowledgeable in magics."

"And for now she might as well be a swaddling babe! If it is not a matter of agreement I will gladly make it a matter of claim!" Kurai snapped as he stopped from the walking argument and put his hands up.

"How charming that when initiative is needed, initiative is always found." Said a strange new voice.

Kurai whirled around and yelped, jumping back and aiming at the new form that had popped up in the hallway the second he'd turned around. It looked like a cat…except it was four times as big. And seemed to be more skeleton then cat, a strange desiccated yet strong dull grayish-white, with a ring in one ear. It smiled, a gigantic smile of sharp teeth and sharper intentions.

"…kitty?" Rose squeaked.

"I am not the feline of which you are so fond, though I assure you no harm has come to your bond." The cat said.

"…THEN WHAT ARE YOU!?!?!?" Kurai yelled, his hands glowing.

"Relax. Offense is not my stock in trade. Rather words as I shall forbade." The cat said. "When the clock stops, one has to wonder if it's the parts or the hands that are the problem."

"………who here says we kill it anyway?" Jack asked. There was general agreement.

"Mundanes." The cat said, and grinned ever wider…as its body abruptly vanished, leaving only the grin.

And as the villains gaped at the hanging smile, that too vanished in turn.

Kurai stepped forward, waving a hand where the cat had been. Nothing.

"…was that what I think it was?" Nightwalker said as she came out of the group. "Was that the Cheshire cat?"

"Lewis Carroll was a touch strange and perhaps had a bit of pedophilia in him, but I don't recall him being insane enough to make the cat look like that." Brick said, looking at where the Cheshire Cat had been.

"That was the Cat from American McGee's Alice! Awesome! That Krueger has some taste!" Control Freak said.

Blackfire punched Control Freak across the jaw.

"OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!" He complained on the ground.

"Don't compliment the enemy!"

"Yes, and also, with Slade-sama dead and gone, I once again declare…!" Kurai began.

The wall behind Kurai abruptly exploded, and with a shriek Kurai jumped into Adonis' arms.

"…dude, not fly. Not fly at all."

Killjoy, Nightwalker, and Blackfire all aimed their respective weapons at the hole.

"Put them down."

And Slade Wilson walked through the hole, looking a touch bedraggled. Well, moreso than getting tossed through a wall would do, as Kurai jumped out of Adonis' arms with a muffled Japanese curse: damn atmosphere. Of course it was the atmosphere. Nothing else.

"Slade-sama! You survived after all!…where have you been for the past bit?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Slade said, as he dumped a strange object that Westminster swore looked familiar as Slade drew his personal handgun (An HK UCP) and sword. "Who's still alive?"

"We lost Handyman." Brick said.

"Good riddance. The rest of you move along, in close quarters that mechanical entity has the advantage…"

Another, louder roar and rumble sounded behind the villains.

"And it's getting closer, MOVE IT!" Slade yelled, and the villains fled down the hallway.

* * *

"They're getting away Krueger." The robed Lieutenant said. Freddy ignored him, typing at his computer. 

"No." He said, with a wicked grin of fangs. "They're not."

* * *

"GRAGHHHH!" Kurai snarled as he yanked another shard of shrapnel out of his chest: the fact he had to do while moving made it worse. 

"That reminds me Kurai." Slade said, as he peered around a corner and moved on when nothing leapt out at him. "What exactly WERE you going to say before the giant robot crashed into the wall?"

Several of the villains looked at Kurai, who looked stunned…and then with another snarl, he grabbed at the last, deepest piece of shrapnel.

"RARGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!" He bellowed, yanking it free. "I'll be frank Slade-sama! I fucked your daughter!"

The villains all stopped dead.

Kurai looked at Slade through a visage scarred with fresh pain, as Slade's lone eye stared back.

"…very cute Kurai. Joke about it again and I kill you." Slade said, gesturing with his gun before moving on.

"Yes…sir." Kurai said, as he and the villains resumed moving.

"He's got the luck of the devil." Dr. Light commented.

"In more ways then one." Dr. Westminster replied.

"Though that begs…the question…" Slade trailed off as he went through an open doorway…and stopped, looking up.

The villains did likewise, as they found themselves looking up the length of an utterly gigantic spiraling stair, disappearing up into the horizon with no end in sight.

"As ridiculously overwrought as he was, I am fairly sure the Lord did not include such a design in his building." Slade commented.

"…I have a terrible feeling of déjà vu…" Nightwalker said.

"Wicked! It's the Batman cathedral-OW!" Control Freak yelled as Jack smacked him on the back of the head.

"Would you cram it you damn nerd?"

The dull mechanical roar sounded in the distance, along with faint sounds of crashing.

"No other exits Slade-sama." Kurai said, having looked around.

"Then up we go. Move." Slade said, as the villains began to traverse up the stairs.

Nightwalker was passing the White Hole when she coughed, swiftly wiping away the blood from her mouth that came from it.

"Are you sure?"

"Why do you even care?" The White Hole replied, and started up the stairs herself. And so up they went.

"Oh god…geez…now I know how the Ghostbusters felt." Control Freak panted a minute later: he was already hyperventilating.

"You're welcome to take a rest and serve as grease for that thing's mechanisms." The Sorceress said as Brick trudged up the stairs with her.

"Oh look, Miss Can't Even Walk deems to bless us with her advice!" Control Freak snapped.

"We're making better time than you." Brick commented. Control Freak groaned and resumed climbing.

The mechanical bellow echoed up the stairs. Getting closer…

"Mr. Wilson, my geographical abilities are a little weak, but if that entity reaches up and climbs up this reach, I do not believe there is enough room to battle it. It will probably wreck the stairway and render us in danger of falling, among other unpleasantness." Dr. Westminster said. Slade absorbed the doctor's word and glanced over the railing.

"I believe you are accurate. DOUBLE TIME!" Slade yelled, as the villains picked up the pace (some as best they could) up and around the spiraling stairs.

As fifteen or so stories below the ground exploded as Goliath rampaged through the door the villains had come through, craning its head upward as it lit the dim tower the villains climbed with searchlights.

"There is, no escape." Goliath intoned, and opened fire, sending nails and metal shards flying up into the shaft. The villains threw themselves against the wall to avoid it.

Said attacked turned out to be a feint, as Goliath reached out and slammed his arms into the walls, and then lifted his body up to let his legs did in as he pulled himself up the tower, smashing the wooden stairs to kindling in the process.

"Annoyance." Slade groused, as he leaned over the railing and opened fire with his handgun, as every villain who could shoot swiftly followed suit. Bullets and blasts rained down on Goliath, but he was not slowed.

"Explosives!" Slade ordered, as he and Killjoy armed and dropped some grenades down the passageway. The tower was racked by their detonation, and Goliath roared as smoke bloomed up the length of the shaft…as Goliath reared up out of it, continuing his climb.

"Maybe we should run Daddy!" Rose said, as she snapped open her revolver to speed-load in more shots.

"It's making too good time. More explosives!"

And from where she stood against the wall, the White Hole watched the villains attempt to locate more ordnance…and decided.

"No Slade. Forget it!" The White Hole said, as she pushed herself off the wall. "I'll take care of it."

"And how do you plan to do that Miss Styles?" Slade asked, not even stopping his grenade gathering process.

The White Hole coughed, more blood leaking from her mouth, but rather then show weakness, the immensely acrid taste seemed to revitalize her.

"The only way I know." The White Hole said, as she pulled her mace from her belt.

"Rebecca…?" Nightwalker asked, sounding confused.

"Don't say anything Miss Nightwalker. I've been doing this for dozens of your lifetimes and I'll be doing it long after you've turned to dust. This is what I am. Nothing more."

"…no." Nightwalker said. The White Hole looked at her.

"You're the first to think so. And the first to make me think on it." The White Hole said. "Flee like the soft thing you are."

And from within her blood-soaked outfit the White Hole drew a wicked, scimitar like blade.

"My world calls."

"You will not escape…!" Goliath intoned as it drew close.

As the White Hole ran and jumped, diving off the edge of the stairway.

"WHAT?"

The dense, savage alien hit the machine creature like a bomb, and with a twin roar of mechanical coldness and primordial, almost joyful rage, Goliath was torn from the wall and the two tumbled down into the blackness, chaotic noise following them all the way down.

"Move, before he rips her apart!" Slade ordered, and the villains resumed their trek upward.

Save Nightwalker, who stared down into the smoke and noise for a few seconds more.

And then she turned and ran with the villains, the massive din fading slightly below them as they climbed the stairs, finally reaching the top and charging through the door beyond.

And there she was.

The villains once again stopped dead at the sight of the girl, standing calmly in the middle of the room, dressed in a blue, old-fashioned dress, a white apron, and dark heavily buckled black boots, her dark red hair past shoulder length and a necklace hanging from her neck.

In the next second the girl had half a dozen projectile weapons aimed at her.

"Well, you're hardly what I expected for minions of the Queen." The girl said in a rather critical tone.

"Move aside or be moved. In a very unpleasant manner." Slade said, as he cocked the hammer on his gun.

"HOLY SHIT! NOW ALICE HERSELF! THIS IS-OW!" Control Freak squealed in the back before some unseen person struck him for the latest time.

The girl did not seem worried about the arsenal being pointed at her, as she cast an odd look at Slade.

As, first with a grin and then entirely, the Cheshire cat made itself known once more.

"Perhaps you both should exchange words instead of weaponsfire. After all, there's still much more bloodshed to face ahead. No need to rush…"

"AHHHHHHHH! THAT CAT AGAIN!" Kurai yelled. The Cheshire Cat grinned all the wider, and once again faded away, the smile going last.

"I don't have time for riddles and nonsense. Either provide an exit or stand aside." Slade said, keeping his gun on Alice.

"…very well. I came here through the door behind me. It may lead you to safety, but it won't help you." Alice said, and then she stepped aside.

Slade kept a gun on her as he began moving forward.

"Uh daddy…she said…"

"She's a manifestation of this nonsense. Ignore her." Slade said. "Through the door. Brick, you first."

Brick didn't protest, as he headed through the double doors that had been behind Alice, having put down Sorceress (who had recovered enough to walk).

Nothing attacked him or yanked him into the room or whatever lay beyond, and the rest of the villains ended up following, Slade going in last, as he gave one last look at Alice and then closed the door behind him.

"Such ignorant fools. They don't even know how to tell an enemy from a passerby…" Alice said, as she pulled out a large, bloodstained knife. "Their enemy may dispose of them before they even know what it is…"

And Alice, after cleaning the blood off via her apron, turned and looked off into the murk that the villains had come from.

And some time later, a thundering racket and glowing red eyes heralded a new visitor, as Alice held her knife firm and looked at the crimson radiance.

* * *

Slade wasn't sure what he was expecting when he exited into the new room. He would have preferred it if the door had lead outside. Despite his earlier hesitation about leaving a supposedly secure area, it was clear that he and his 'allies' would have to deal with greater threats then scampering dolls and idiots in Halloween costumes, and in the bar they had been sitting ducks. That error had already cost him one of his stronger 'allies' (and considering how unpredictable the White Hole could be that might have been a blessing in disguise), and he would have preferred the options of the streets of Jump. 

But they did not find themselves outside. Instead they found themselves in some kind of massive multi-floored lobby crafted in marble and fine wood. Multiple doors exited from the giant room (though it had no staircase in the room to reach the upper floors), including a larger blue double-door across from where the villains had entered, though this was somewhat difficult to see due to the fact there was a fountain in the middle of the room, a small statue above it. Behind the fountain and in front of Slade was a work area with desks, chairs, and various office equipment. Like someone had turned an old museum into a government building.

The rest of the villains were around him, looking around the area…when a wide grin appeared out of thin air before Slade. His eye narrowed as he aimed a gun at it, as the grin was filled out by the same cat the group (save Slade) had seen earlier. The Cheshire Cat.

"You have arrived. But changing the world to fit your view is meaningless without a sense of direction in order to make the world round and not a disk floating in the nothingness." The cat said.

"…your next sentence had best make a modicum of sense." Slade threatened.

"WOW! CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH?" Control Freak suddenly yelled, startling everyone as he ran over to the cat. The feline just grinned, and then vanished.

"Awwwwwwwwwwww…that blows monkey…"

Kurai's fist lashed out, slamming into Control Freak's face and sending him flying over the desk, where he crashed into the workspace area floor, knocked loopy.

"Does anyone object to my action?" The Japanese teen asked.

"No."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"I'm just glad it's not me." The Puppet King.

With a swing, Adonis smashed the wooden dummy into the nearest wall.

"OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!" The dummy yelled.

"Gotta give my peeps what they want!" Adonis said as he pumped his arms.

"Then be quiet." Slade said. "Kurai, Ravager, pan out and inspect the room. Check the doors but do not enter them. Mr. Westminster, Dr. Vogel, and Miss Sine, watch them and make sure they do not enter the doors due to possible…outside influence." Slade said, giving a mildly resigned look to his daughter, who was checking her hair with a small pocket mirror. "Everyone else, spread out, and once again, do not leave this room. If you do, don't bother coming back, as I will shoot first and not bother with any questions."

"Yes sir." Kurai said, and began his inspection.

"Okey-dokey!" Rose chirped, and did likewise. Slade's eye narrowed.

"Now Miss Ithlian, I require your aid in doing something regarding…" Slade said as he turned around to address security measures for the door they'd come from.

In the end, none were needed. The door had vanished.

"…One less problem. I suppose." Slade said.

"So can I just relax?" The Sorceress asked.

"I didn't say that." Slade said. "We were underarmed when that robot struck. I do not make the same mistake twice, and I and the others will requite access to our weapon supplies." Slade said. Sorceress groaned, as she realized she was going to be stuck with the draining grunt work again.

"It seems clear Slade-sama." Kurai called.

"Nothing Daddy!" Rose called in turn.

"Do another sweep to be certain."

"Awwwwwwwwwwwww."

* * *

"That was not expected." The Lieutenant said to Freddy. "I believed all aspects of this emergence answered to you." 

"Some glitches in the program." Freddy retorted, as he tapped furiously. "But I'm already twisting one to my advantage! I have no trouble with surprises! I was supposed to be dead when my home was firebombed after all, you are looking at the original zen master of rolling with the punches!"

"Your track record says differently."

"Oh put a sock in it!"

The robed lieutenant produced a sock.

"Please specify area."

With one clawed slash, Freddy reduced the sock to shreds.

* * *

"You are reading too far into it. Stop." Slade said to Nightwalker. 

"Hmmmmmm?" The now-blonde female said absent-mindedly: the Sorceress had re-enlarged the weapons crates and under Slade's direction the villains were now arming themselves once more, except Blackfire, who was sitting and glaring at nothing in particular while smoking a cigarette (where she got a cigarette, and when she had started smoking, no one bothered to ask her), and Control Freak, who was still unconscious in the work area nearby. Nightwalker was re-arming her personal weapon system, but had been rather slow and dreamy about it.

"Miss Styles did nothing for you, or any of us. Put aside such soft thoughts. They will get you killed, especially with the atmosphere's specific targeting of you. Speaking of which, have you noticed any new changes?"

"No….but."

"She did what she did because she would have rather died battling then bleeding out on the ground. That is the only reason. Get rid of such ridiculous sentiments. They do not belong in a warrior's mindset."

"….if you say so." Nightwalker said quietly.

"You got enough handguns there Jack?" Dr. Light asked.

"Fuck off chickenshit." Jack growled, not even paying attention to the doctor. His attention was again focused on the other doctor, Westminster, who has selected an IMI Galli assault rifle (the successor to the immensely useful AK-47) and was trying to locate some 50 round curved box clips for it. For a moment Jack contemplated just drawing one of his guns and shooting the bastard in the head. Just to be sure. He could blame it on the atmosphere. Because something just kept rubbing him the wrong way about the doctor.

He'd prove it. Soon.

The English doctor, meanwhile, honest to god thought that his Australian 'friend' was going to shoot him. And probably blame it entirely on the atmosphere. Well, if he tried it, he would get a strafing of machine gun fire…no, he had to be imaging it. Westminster knew that Jack wouldn't for one reason, albeit one reason alone: as soon as he tried to kill another member of the group Slade would destroy him. Nothing could happen!

So why did he feel so uneasy still? What was the guy's problem? Hazing gone wrong or something worse…Dr. Westminster glanced at Slade, making sure he seemed to be paying some degree of attention. Just in case.

Slade was looking over at Killjoy, who was finally arming the weapon Brick had been lugging around besides the bundles and the Sorceress. It was strange to see the silent, cold assassin helping ANYONE, though Slade knew that if he could actually fire it, Killjoy would just wield the weapon himself. Slade had a nice toy for Killjoy though, and himself, to replace his lost shotgun.

"Mr. Wilson." The Sorceress said crossly, sitting nearby, where she had used a chunk of her minimal energy stores to heal up her ankles. "How much longer do you plan to sit around and admire your oily little tubes?"

"Long enough to ensure your survival Miss Ithlian. And once we're done, shrink the boxes back down."

"Very well. But I have a condition. Once I do, I am allowed to make a brief search of this area in the possibility of finding a better outfit. With my gravely weakened abilities, which are being retarded in their recovery by YOUR actions, I cannot float and this clothing is inappropriate for walking. I need something else."

"As you will. Take Brick with you though, to ensure you aren't dragged off due to your refusal to protect yourself with one of my oily little tubes." Slade replied. The Sorceress just looked crossly at him.

"This isn't fair. Even more so then usual." The Puppet King complained, upset that no one was giving him a weapon or letting him take one.

"Oh be quiet bookends." Dr. Light said.

"Hey, at least I'm considered without worth because of my lack of powers due to this curse. Your power is based on a suit! Yet you have contributed as much offensive effort as I have!"

"Hey, whaddaya want, it's in character."

* * *

A brief moment later, the Sorceress had shrunk the boxes back up and been pointed towards a door Slade had deemed 'safe'. Brick followed behind her, opening the door and peering in. Seeing no apparent threats, he showed the Sorceress in. 

The not-much-of-a-master-at-the-time mage took a moment and looked around her surroundings. The room was wrecked, but more in the style of a rush of trying to move out of the room rather than anything. Party hats and streamers littered the place and a large banner that said "Welcome Leon" (who was Leon?) was writ large upon the wall. Tables were over turned in the panicked sprawl and hastily boarded windows littered the room with an office in the far corner. There was the occasional blood splatter decorating various surfaces and even a long blood trail across the room, as if some poor bastard had dragged himself over to the office, waiting for his death. Perhaps this Leon?

"Here." Brick said, as he opened one of the blood stained lockers. She noted that it happened to be the most blood stained locker there. Go figure.

"Regrettable, the mess." Brick said, as if picking up on her annoyance at the fact.

"Of course it is." The Sorceress walked over and pulled the door open a little further open to see. She wasn't picky on options, having gotten to the point that under her own motion she was literally holding her dress up, the loose material having become so ragged that it was slowly slipping into indecent. Under normal circumstances this never happened: her clothing were magical in nature hence it had a smattering of semi-sentience. It helped avoid a lot of bumps. How come they never got dirty? Sentient. How come they never get caught unless it was integral to the story? Sentient. How come they always look cool? Sentient.

But with the atmosphere affecting everyone she was in trouble: when it wasn't ankle trouble she was tripping, getting caught and worse as the dress constricted around her, every twist living her even less give to breath as it fell apart. She needed new clothes…and inside the locker happened to be a uniform, a full police woman's uniform including radio and belt.

It would serve, as strange as it would look, doubly so. The Sorceress reached up and pulled it out with both hands.

And Brick covered his eyes rather swiftly as the dress finally fell away. He coughed briefly before he turned his back to her, allowing her to change while using him as a screen. She did have some dignity.

"Huh." The Sorceress stated as she started to get dressed. The clothing fit perfectly, everything from the under garments to the belts and straps. They all seemed to be in her size, or rather her new size. Everyone was being affected by the atmosphere, most psychologically and some physically. The Sorceress, like a few others, was part of the latter. Her anorexic form was changed somewhat. Not the sudden, extreme changes of Sine, but the more subtle changes like that of Control Freak, as his physical fitness seemed to increase or decrease depending on the situation (she hadn't noticed him getting exhausted when he was running around during the chaos of the maniac army attack). She now looked… normal.

Well, she still had the pale skin and the veins shooting across it, dark lines close to the surface, but she was no longer anorexic. Her muscles were no longer atrophied; her body now like as if she was a normal teenager. Normal proportions and… were those thighs? Since when had she thighs? She pondered this question as she pulled leather trousers over her legs. The fact she had to pull them over this round and soft thing behind her hips worried her.

"Something wrong?" Brick asked, his voice booming throughout the empty room.

"Just a small change." She stated, slipping on a bra for the first time in…ever.. She struggled a little with the clasps, not having the experience of it from years of training bras and upward as she grew up. Her childhood was an organic maturation tube.

Though she did remember getting this really cool doll on her first birthday. But I digress...

"Nearly done?" Brick asked as she buttoned up a blue shirt.

"Almost." She replied, as she looked back towards him…spotting the still somewhat unpleasant wound where Goliath had him with three nails. Or was it four? Whatever the number… "…How is the head?"

"A little better." He stated, feeling the spot with a gargantuan hand. The wound was rather ugly, and Brick's hand was far from graceful, but he barely seemed to feel it. "I ponder if this means I'm truly dead on the inside and the only thing that is allowing my intellect is the magic."

"……..…"

The Sorceress paused, not sure what to say. She was never one for comforting speeches or idealistic hints. Why turn to her? She only knew magic and in these conditions that knowledge was next to useless.

"Maybe you can put your mind in a golem or something." She tried, finishing getting dressed and placing on the last few paraphernalia that befitted the uniform, badges, insignia and a belt with a pistol inside the holster (just a small six shot Smith & Wesson but that didn't matter, her skill with a pistol was equating to that of a child that had lost all its limbs in an accident. She did hate technology after all).

"I suppose that's possible, though I wouldn't know where to start. And once this is over I suspect it will be back to being a step above a mindless block of concrete. And you'll once again be a harsh task-mistress of magic."

"And what makes you think that I've changed from that to begin with?" She snapped. Well, it wasn't much of a snap. More of a retort, though it happened to be a particularly barbed one.

"You've had a look at what it's like for humans."

"…….."

The Sorceress paused again for a moment, waiting for an explanation of the harrowing truth that was starting to collapse on her like a cave in.

"You've seen what it is like for normal people, why they can't rely on the magical arts. They want to but they can't access it like you, so they turn to science to help them. Magic schooling takes innate connection, serious training and talent. And time, most often. You had all four, while most might not have one."

Brick's lumbering feet slowly turned and lifted off the floor as he started to turn towards her. His small eyes traced the expression on her face. She was being hit hard with it, the realization on some level that she understood what the 'mundanes' had to go through each and every day, what they had to suffer through. People like Brick, and even he was a metahuman. Such a thing for him, let alone a powerless human…

"No! I… I… Magic is right and…" She stumbled across her words as things shifted in her mind.

"Shh. Once you get your powers back I'm sure the only magic mindset will once again enforce itself upon you with a breathtaking ease. Remember, absolute power and all that corruption business."

On some level, she knew he was right. He was observant and understood so much. Such a clever man he must have been in his former life. All gone…even now: this was just a brief moment in an abnormal time and place.

"…Can we go? I'm ready." She asked rather quietly, dressed in a full policewoman's uniform. She even had the hat in her hand. Brick nodded with a slight smile, but it wasn't one of victory or smug satisfaction, it was of one of simple comprehension and friendly sympathy.

"Thank you Vogel." She said quietly and turned to leave, walking away.

"And thank you for finally remembering. Though I must ask…since when have you had hips?" Brick asked after her, allowing her to cry that she didn't know.

* * *

The lair of Freddy Krueger. 

"This makes no sense." The Lieutenant said as he watched the screen, as Freddy pushed the Sorceress' screen away and pulled another closer to look at it, pondering what he could do to hamper the next person. "Why did you make her normal? Surely she would be much easier to take down as she was? A weak and feeble creature with no muscles. Especially considering the dangers she represents."

"That's no fun. What good is it to get the ones that are pretty much ours? May as well go after hospital patients or paraplegics, like that dog who shall remain nameless." Freddy growled and fiddled around with a few slide bars to get ideas on this particular member of the group whom had been doing too well for his liking, especially with things considered. "Giving her a chance makes it a challenge! Not much of one but it's more fun to hunt running prey!"

"But we're always making them trip."

"Yes but that's their fault for being bimbos, not because their muscles aren't up to the task."

"But…"

"ENOUGH!"

* * *

The fact that the Sorceress was now wearing a police uniform did indeed get the villain's attention, which gave Kurai his opening. 

"Rose-chan!" He hissed to her as she looked over her XM8 rifle (a prototype gun that had never been formally completed: her father had 'borrowed' a few crates from various militaries and finished them up with supertech the military found too cost-prohibitive to be practical). She seemed to be debating the clip size: 30 round clip or 100 round C-Mag drum. With a grin, she picked the 30 round clip and actually seemed to stroke the length momentarily before she looked at Kurai.

"Yeah?"

"Look, I need to stay alive for your sake AND mine, as my mind is clear and yours…is not so much, and for that to happen, you have to NOT tell your father what we did!"

"Okay!" Rose grinned.

"That's good, now we…wait a moment Rose. Tell me what we did." Kurai said, not trusting the atmosphere and how it warped Rose's intelligence.

"You just said not to!"

"I said don't tell your father! Now what did we do?"

"We shot at the robot monster thing!"

"No, the other thing!"

"We talked to a scary cat?"

"No, the _other_ thing!"

"You know, those things will kill you. And reduce your lung capacity." Dr. Westminster said to the smoking Blackfire. Her intense glare made it clear he should have minded his own business.

"Oh yeah right, like you care! If I have to breathe harder, that just means my chest goes bouncy bouncy even more for your sick perverted joy! Fuck you! Asshole!" Blackfire snapped. Westminister blinked.

"Uh…"

"Did you not get the picture? Shall I put my cigarette out in your eye, maybe THAT will drive the point home?"

"But…"

"We had some drinks?" Rose guessed.

"No, the OTHER thing!"

"Oohhhhhhhhh…." Control Freak groaned as he finally got up. "Everyone's a critic…ow…well, nice place…nice big place…wait a sec…"

"Miss I…" Dr. Westminster said.

"Oh what, you wanna examine me now? That it? Wanna feel me up? I'm wise to you!"

"Hey Komand'r, knock it off." Nightwalker said.

"You shut up ho!"

"Wait a minute…overly elaborate place…empty besides us…typewriter…ink ribbon?" Control Freak as he looked around.

"We saw reality break?"

"No, the _**OTHER**_ thing!"

"Oh, the passionate monkey sex where I was it during the last half of it?"

"Yes that is WHAT?"

"What?"

"WHAT?"

"Huh?"

Kurai had a sudden sinking feeling.

"Rose, how did we start this conversation?"

"Something about monkeys?"

"….I am so dead." Kurai lamented.

"You can all fuck off! I'll decide what the fuck I want to do, when the fuck I want to do it, and there's fuckall you CAN do!" Blackfire raged, completely lost in her archetype. "So I'll tell you shits just where the FUCK you can get…"

The hammer clicked as Killjoy pulled out a gun and aimed at Blackfire.

"…off?"

"GUYS! WE'RE IN THE RPD! THERE'S GONNA BE…!" Control Freak yelled.

Killjoy's gun boomed.

And blew a hole through the zombie's head, the bullet zipping past Blackfire's own head to strike and finally shutting the ranting alien up.

"…zombies." Control Freak as he turned around, white at how close the undead creature had gotten to eating his brains.

"…say again Control Freak?" Slade said in annoyance.

"…we have zombies." Control Freak said, backing away from the creature.

"Zombies?"

"Zombies." Control Freak repeated.

"Zombies." Slade said, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Zombies." Nightwalker said matter of factly.

"Zombies." Dr. Westminster groaned.

"Zombies." Jack said in anticipation.

"CRIMSON HEAD!" Control Freak shrieked.

"What, those only appeared in the man-IYEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Dr. Light screamed as the now blood-red clawed shrieking corpse leapt back up and charged at a running like hell Control Freak as he ran screaming himself…

"A distraction. Thank you Raiden."

And then the further mutated biological experiment gone awry exploded, courtesy of one of Kurai's blasts.

"Dead head." Kurai said.

"…well then." Slade said. "Anything else I should know about zombies?"

"They don't come alone." Control Freak panted.

And then all the door slammed open, and they began to stream forth, dozens upon dozens of them, men turned to undead creatures of pure hunger, flesh rotting off their forms as they staggered towards the villains.

Slade looked at Control Freak like he was to blame for the massive attack, and the gamer grinned sheepishly.

And then Slade turned away, drew a handgun, and blew the head off several zombies in a quick spray of multiple shots before his gun ran dry.

"Brick, Adonis, get ready, the rest of you, kill them all!" Slade snapped as he snatched up his new gun. Rose had a finished prototype weapon, so did Slade: The XM-26 LSS, a specialized small shotgun attached to a M4A1 carbine rifle, giving Slade both rapid fire and spraying capacity.

Which Slade promptly showed off by cutting two zombies in half with a burst of fire and then, his hand blurring to the separate weapon, blowing the head off another zombie.

And his gun was swiftly joined by others as most every other villain opened fire in various directions, mowing down the zombies. Well, most: Sorceress covered her ears and kept her head down, Control Freak was trying to find his gun, Puppet King was just standing around looking annoyed and upset, Brick and Adonis were doing…something, and Dr. Light…was hiding behind the shooting villains screaming 'Hurt them! Hurt them!"

At least until Killjoy grabbed him and locked an arm around his neck to use him as a human shield.

Dr. Light screamed (like a girl, as you may have guessed), but Killjoy ignored him as he brought up Slade's 'toy': The HK XM-29 SABR assault rifle. It would have been impossible for most men to wield this advanced assault rifle/grenade launcher with one hand.

Killjoy was not most men, as he blew apart a pack of zombies with a 20mm grenade, cut down a few more with a spray of bullets, and then blew apart another five zombies with another grenade blast.

More Crimson Heads sprang up, but even they were swiftly blown apart by the sheer mass of firepower. Jack laughed as he emptied handgun after handgun into the mass, Rose, Westminster and Nightwalker fired their own machine rifles along with Slade and Killjoy, and Kurai and Blackfire just used their own innate energies.

"Oh yeah! Time to join in the gun pron!" Control Freak said as he found a handgun and began blasting away himself.

But the surge of zombies continued to come…

"Wilson! Ready!"

To their doom.

"EVERYONE DOWN!" Slade bellowed, and everyone ducked.

As Brick opened fire with a M61A1 vulcan cannon, having FINALLY gotten everything set up via Killjoy to use. He hadn't been ready with Goliath had attacked, but not this time. And considering the M61A1 was a weapon that supposed to be mounted on jet planes and fired at other vehicles…you can guess how well the zombies stood against it.

And just to drive the point home, Adonis almost opened fire…with twin MG-34 machine guns Slade had had attached to his robot suit's arms.

"YEAHHHHHHHHHHH! CHECK THESE PITCHES, BITCHES!" Adonis yelled. The pair did two quick sweeps.

When they were done, nothing was around the villains except a gigantic pile of destroyed, rotten flesh, the rubble of a fountain and desk setup, and badly riddled walls.

The villains paused, looking at the mess, as it began to fade away…

And then, almost as an afterthought, Nightwalker handed a pained looking Sorceress a pair of ear plugs.

"You're a little late." She groused.

"No guarantee of that…" Nightwalker replied.

As the new zombies ran in screaming and snarling, before Killjoy and Slade quickly blew them apart. They were replaced, tenfold, as the attack resumed anew.

"AH! RUNNING DAWN REMAKE ZOMBIES! NO WAIT RAGE 28 TIME PERIOD ZOMBIES! AHHHHHH! BOTH!" Control Freak shrieked. The villains didn't really care for specifics, as they all opened fire again.

Motion exploded on the upper levels, and then deformed, half skeletal zombies began leaping off the balconies at the villains.

"WE'LL SWALLOW YOUR SOULS! WE'LL SWALLOW YOUR…!" They howled before Adonis and Nightwalker blew them out of the air.

"DEADITES!" Control Freak shrieked.

Brownish-green arms erupted out of the ground, bringing disgusting creatures with glowing eyes. Dr. Westminster and Killjoy introduced them to some bullets, green blood exploding from the mutant bodies.

"CHUDS!" Control Freak cried.

"GET DOWN!" Brick yelled, and laid loose with another spray of Vulcan death, blowing apart the zombie ranks.

But more came, among them…young schoolgirls?

Blood-splattered, rotting, snarling with bloody mouths schoolgirls.

"STACIES!" Control Freak gibbered.

Slade introduced them to Mr. Gun regardless, and they splattered just as good as the typical zombies…and kept coming, their pieces slowly dragging themselves towards the villain group where their bigger brethren stayed down. Slade growled.

"We're getting pressed in here! Don't let yourself be overwhelmed!" Slade ordered, as Ravager's gun ran dry and she dropped it, drawing twin Walter P99's and resuming fire.

"Here they come from the top again!" Westminister yelled, and then zombies with fanged filled mouths and clawed hands leapt from the balconies. Kurai, Jack, and Nightwalker shot them down. They splattered black.

"…Spider…Freaks…from Webs?" Control Freak guessed.

"WHY are there so many FREAKING types of zombies!" Dr. Westminster yelled.

"I told you Hollywood was a cesspool! And will you do something more useful then just yell out whatever new creature we're facing!" Slade snapped, as he rapidly reloaded his twin weapons. A Stacy arm flopped at him, and he kicked it aside. "AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT THESE SCHOOLGIRL PARTS!"

"There's something you don't hear every day." Brick mused, as he looked at Sorceress, who was looking around at the carnage with increasing stunned shock. He poked her, and she looked up.

"The parts of the girl creatures! Can you get rid of them!" He yelled. How the Sorceress heard him, he didn't know, but she did, as she turned and raised her arms, tapping into what she had to seize the writhing pieces and throw them towards the back of the room, even knocking over a few zombies in the process, as they just…kept…coming…

As a new crowd spilled out through a nearby door…a crowd of blistered, infested human-types in paper gowns.

"Help us…help us…" They groaned, writhing towards the villains.

"What the…AHHHH! INFECTED!" Control Freak yelped.

Slade aimed his gun at them…and found it wouldn't fire.

"Don't!" Control Freak yelled as he ran over with his remote. "Don't shoot them! They're carrying thousands of diseases! It'll kill us…like if they touch us. CRAP!" Control Freak yelled. "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"

The fat nerd began to run away before Slade seized him by the shoulder, even as Adonis and Brick tried to push back the crowd, but the crowd pressed on towards the villains.

"No, corpulent one. ITHLIAN! I NEED A PUSH!" Slade yelled, pointing at the approaching infected.

Fortunately for Slade, Sorceress didn't misconstrue his statement and push Slade into the poor Infected: instead she slammed them back the way they came with mournful wails.

"And as for you, you just reminded me what your gun can do. So do it to everything, now." Slade ordered.

"But…"

"NOW!" Slade yelled as he drew another handgun and pressed it against his head.

"…okay." Control Freak said, as he turned and aimed at the attacking zombie legions. "PAUSE!"

And just like that, all the zombies stopped. Just like the films they were from.

"This is too exposed, we need an area easier to protect." Slade said.

"Then let's go out the door here!" Jack yelled, pointing to the exit door behind them.

"I don't trust that door. We…"

And then suddenly all the zombies were lunging forward again, and Slade's eye widened, barely getting his gun up to defend himself. "CONTROL FREAK!"

"You said freeze them! I WOULD have said it would only last ten seconds at such a far scope, Mr. Smartypants!" Control Freak yelled, as he ignited his lightsaber-esque weapon and began cutting down attacking zombies.

"Slade! I don't have much ammo left!" Brick called. Slade looked at the giant…

And then his eyes were drawn to the NEW giants approaching from the shadows of the shattered walls in the distance. In they came, giant figures of Brick-like muscle, their patchwork skins barely seemed to cover their frames, giant square metal packs on their back as they began pushing their way through their smaller brethren.

"…Holy shit. Embalmed Abominations." Control Freak said.

"Then use it on them!" Slade yelled, pointing at the approaching giants…as Control Freak's eyes went wide.

Brick aimed the gun.

"NO WAIT SLADE THEY…"

And opened fire.

"EXPLODE!"

As the bullets ripped into the giants.

And they did blow up. They blew up good, shaking the entire building as zombies and flaming liquid and solids flew everywhere, even raining down on the villains. In the several seconds it took for them to ensure none of them were on fire, the entire lobby had caught instead.

"Slade! We're going to suffer severe causalities if we stay here!" Nightwalker yelled, as Kurai, Jack, and Blackfire tried to hold off the flaming zombie remnants with natural talents, bullets having been running out for a while and no real time to reload…

Slade narrowed his eye again, looking at the lone exit available…

As a flaming zombie stumbled through the fire…a zombie covered with explosives.

Explosives that were on fire.

Slade's eye went from narrow to wide.

"Bloody hell." Slade said, and with a whirl he blew the double doors that exited the RPD open. They yawned open to reveal consuming blackness. "GO GO GO GO!"

And so the villains barreled out through the front doors of the RPD, trying to avoid the fire…

And getting that strange tingling sensation again…

And Forest Whittaker exploded, and the entire RPD lobby was consumed by cleansing fire.

* * *

_**Slow zombies are from Night of the Living Dead and Resident Evil. Crimson Heads and that one dangerous zombie Forest Whittaker are from the Resident Evil remake. The running zombies are from the Dawn of the Dead remake and 28 Days/Weeks later. The Deadites are from the Evil Dead series, the CHUD's (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers) are from the film C.H.U.D, the Stacies are from the Japanese horror comedy Stacy, the 'Spider Freaks' are from the Sci-Fi Channel TV movie Webs, The Infected are from the Doctor Who Series 2 opening episode 'New Earth', and the Embalmed Abominations are from the MMORPG City of Heroes.**_

_**My creator took the time to find and catalogue all this variance. Readers, PLEASE tell her she needs a life.**_

* * *

As the villains ended up passing through another barrier, the sensation flowing through them… 

"Can anyone see a damn thing?"

"Where are we going?"

"Knowing our luck we're probably at the bottom of a coal mine."

"No, knowing the way this has gone so far we're going to end up in Halloweentown."

"I certainly hope not, I can't sing worth a…"

And then they emerged.

They expected, in all fairness, to land in something worse. A street full of werewolves instead of zombies, or maybe the town of Barrow, Alaska, full of more fire and death, the stench of burning buildings filling their noses as the byproducts of the fire spewed up, engulfing the air above them.

The stench they got was something different.

The Sorceress had not made it many steps out the door when she tripped and fell. Waving Brick off, she looked up slightly, panting. She was not good when it came to running, yet so far she was still alive and breathing. Breathing far too heavily for her taste, actually: with the loss of her ability to float and fly she had to 'hoof' it as the saying went, and she didn't like it, not one bit. Her own concerns however were washed away as she looked up.

They were in a city still, but the buildings were different. This was not a place under siege: the structures looked older, smaller. And while they were not pristine, their damage was not of a location laid to waste by societal breakdown and chaos in the streets. This was a different wear and tear, as if the buildings had been abandoned for months, if not years.

Alone.

The buildings were alone, an effect magnified by a pea soup fog that filled the streets, obscuring the buildings. Even though there were still a large number of them, they still FELT alone. Isolated.

Deserted.

"…Why do I suspect this calmer situation is nowhere near as beneficial as it seems." Slade said, as he reloaded his gun, an action that prompted several of the villains to do likewise (save Brick, who couldn't carry around the massive ammo drums and hence has just shouldered his weapon. Adonis' suit wasn't hampered by the same problem and was reloading ammo mechanically). Dr. Westminster, meanwhile, stepped forward a little, taking a closer look at the surroundings. He did not go too far: with the fog in the streets thicker than milkshake, he didn't dare.

Snow seemed to fall from the skies, fluttering down lightly on to the white hat of the doctor…but something was wrong with it. It wasn't pure white, and started to mark the doctor's fedora with grey spots. Westminster took his hat off and examined it, even as his white mask became the subject of the 'snow's' interest. Whatever it was, he doubted it was snow.

"I don't like this…" Jack commented in an off-handed manner as he took a step back, his Grimmer fingers elongating into cruel, cutting blades. Something was telling him, shouting at him that he shouldn't be here; as if the whole place was screaming 'I will take you' into his subconscious. Without a target, it clearly greatly agitated the psychotic Australian, as his eyes darted about, looking for either something to hit or something to run screaming from. As long as he had some kind of OPTION, instead of this damnable calm.

"Neither do I. We might be better off if we went back the way we came." Nightwalker said as she continued to peer around at the lonely town landscape, or what she could see of it. There was an ominous familiarity about it, something she remembered from before, something that had reverberated in her as well which told her to run and run as fast as she could, a fact her sword and orb launchers couldn't dispel.

"Well you heard the motion of the birdie, I say aye!" Jack declared: while he constantly declared he wasn't a coward, he knew when taking shelter inside was better than standing around outside.

He turned, still looking back, as he started to run…

Only he didn't hit door. It was gone.

There wasn't even a building in front of him any more. There was just more fog, road, wire fence…

"SHIT!" The Australian cursed.

…And a dirty great chasm, stretching for far beyond the human sphere of sight into a near infinite stretch. Jack managed to stop just at the lip, his toes on the size twelve shoes he wore slipping over the edge as he swung his arms futilely, attempting to gain some scrap of balance before he fell.

"SHITSHITSHITSHIT!" He bellowed; as if in the hopes he could swing himself back to safety with words, but they were as wasted as his swinging motions. He was going to fall, and he wasn't going to stay alive when it was done, whether by his own bad luck or the ravine's 'wish'…  
But despite himself, he wasn't alone, as Brick reached out and seized him by his jacket, dragging him away from the edge with a yank, causing Jack to fall backwards onto his ass with a rather un-masculine squawk.

"Fools do rush in." Brick commented. One might ask why he'd saved the murderer, but to Brick it was simple numbers: Jack may have been annoying, a bigot and a misogynist, but he was useful in any situation that involved a fight, and when his powers fully came back, he will be rather difficult to stop.

Plus he had the extra ammo stuffed away in his jacket.

"Talk about not looking before you leap." Westminster commented. That earned him an intense glare and a certain finger from Jack. "Okay, I admit that was bad, but it was appropriate." Westminister said, and turned away.

Unfortunately not seeing beyond the surface anger in Jack's eyes to what lay beyond. If he had, maybe things would have gone differently.

"Well then. Going back isn't an option. Looks like we have to go forward into the town, whatever town it is." Slade said, as he turned to Control Freak. "Where are we, corpulent one?"

Control Freak didn't answer: he seemed momentarily frozen. Slade didn't much like that, as The Sorceress, having finally gotten her breath back, managed to stagger to her feet and dusted herself off, still breathing, still alive. She sniffed the air lightly. She'd put a finger on the scent.

It smelled like decay.

"Uh guys…?"Adonis said, as he drew the villain's attention to where he was standing, having walked over to a sign of simple green with gold writing that looked like it had seen many better years. It had a simple inscription.

It smelled like rot…a rot infused with dark, dangerous magics.

WELCOME TO SILENT HILL.

"…anyone got a radio?" Control Freak squeaked.

"What? Why would that be necessary?" Slade asked.

Control Freak looked at Slade, and then he took a deep, Ace Ventura style breath…and spilled out in rapid panic a story about a video game series that took place (mostly) in a town called Silent Hill, where reality seemed softer then the norm and which seemed to act as a kind of purgatory for people who'd sinned, where they would face terrible creatures and tests to see if they were worthy of redemption…

"All right, I get it. Fine. If they want to test us…"

"No dammit Slade Wilson! You don't get it! The people in the games, they were for the most part morally grey! And it still manifested a legion of horrors! What do you think it's going to do with a group of the 'big bad's?"

"Well it…it can't be…surely…" Slade said…

As he glanced around…as the mist no longer seemed so calm, no longer seemed so empty, like it now hid untold numbers of horrors…

…horrors only shown by the briefest of shadows, the smallest of movements…

That indicated to Slade that something was out there.

A LOT of somethings.

"Daddy?" Rose asked. Slade snarled.

And when Deathstroke the Terminator decided the best course of action was to run, you LISTENED, as the villains took off down the misty streets, the shadows drifting and surging behind them…

As Slade's eye managed to be on the proper side to catch a glimpse of movement, as he stopped.

"Wait! In there!" Slade yelled, as he turned and ran towards…a small supermarket. Before the villains knew what they were doing, they'd all run through doors.

"…oh PEACHY." Jack Djinn said as he looked around. "If anyone mentioned an Arrowhead Project, I am out of here."

"What are we doing sir?" Kurai asked, as Slade stalked to the back of the store.

And found the Cheshire Cat standing before an open door, grinning as usual.

"Give us an exit, entity." Slade said, aiming his weapon.

"When the crows dive it takes time for them to realize the mistake they have made, then it can only lead into the mouth of mouths." The Cheshire Cat said. But he did not disappear this time. This time he turned and ran through the door behind him.

"Follow him. Anywhere is better then this!" Slade said, and the villains piled through the door.

* * *

Freddy's lair. 

"This is fun! What other crazy nonsense can I make this cat say?" Freddy cackled. "Well, until I think of some more, time for your next present, bitch!"

* * *

"…well, you said it Slade-sama." Kurai said. 

"…I really should not be surprised, but even if that is true, it doesn't stop me from being any less annoyed." Slade said as he looked around.

From police station under siege to a town far too close to hell…to a hedge maze.

"Are we in the bloody Shining?" Dr. Westminster asked.

"No snow." Brick commented.

"And extra style. This is the Hedge Maze from Alice!" Control Freak gleefully revealed.

"And this is better then that Silent Hill town?" Slade asked, looking around at the centre they were in, multiple exits built of hedge and laced with a metal curb and cornering, the symbols of the four signs of cards glowing from the lattice and providing illumination.

"Well yeah! It's…prettier!"

Slade once again pondered shooting Control Freak and then decided it wasn't worth the bullet.

"Mr. Freak, this game seems to keep encroaching on us. Why is that?"

"I…"

And once again the Cheshire Cat faded into being before Slade. This time Slade didn't even get a chance to aim his gun.

"By using an insignificant present, you have a very fruitful experience that cannot be understood by someone who does not use something insignificant." The Cat said, and promptly faded away.

"…that wasn't what I expected." Slade said. "Now…wait." The assassin said, as he did a quick head count. "Where is Miss Sine?"

* * *

"HELP!" Nightwalker cried…from down amongst the villain's feet. When she'd gone through the door, she'd had the sensation of intense vertigo……and then found herself stumbling amongst tall green pillars, alone. Calling up her helmet to scan for her fellows, she'd been somewhat alarmed when it had identified the tall pillars as grass. 

And when the voices had started booming overhead, and Nightwalker had goggled up to look at her teammates, now impossibly large giants, she realized her fate. The horror atmosphere had slammed another hammer on her, right out of the blue. She was literally underfoot.

And listening to their now-booming-to-her voices confirmed why: they were in some Alice in Wonderland world variant. No wonder she'd shrunk. And she hadn't even ingested any labelled food! Those fucking cheats.

"I'M DOWN HERE! LOOK DOWN! BRICK! DR. WESTMINSTER! LOOK DOWN!" Nightwalker screamed, but the simple noises the villains made speaking and moving drowned out her voice. And she severely doubted she could keep up to them if they left. How could this get any worse?

That was the last kind of thought she should have had.

And she suddenly heard a strange chittering noise, and she turned to see the ants approaching.

And these weren't friendly looking ants. The fact that they were red and seemed to be a mix of humanoid and insect qualities hinted that. The fact they were actually wearing old-fashioned army clothes confirmed it.

Talk about falling down the rabbit hole.

"…." Nightwalker 'said', and then she wordlessly drew the Lightscourge.

* * *

"…I guess something in the previous world seized her. A pity, I suppose." Slade said. "Now, Control Freak, how do we get out of here?" 

"Uh…well it's been a while since I played the game…"

"Never mind then, we shall just burn a way out."

"….Wilson, I don't think that will work." Brick intoned.

"Oh? And just what will stop us?"

"OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!"

"I should stop even thinking such thoughts." Slade growled, and snapped up his main gun.

As the card men swarmed from the hedge maze exits, grotesquely shaped creatures that looked like fat men having been squished to be thin as cards, all suits represented: black clubs with literal long clubs, red diamonds with stabbing spears, black spades with crushing/stabbing spades, and blood red hearts with barbed heart staffs, all yelling the same thing as they charged to eliminate the intruders via the method of decapitation.

The villains had a rather united response as well. It sounded like this: BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMETCETC!

The first wave exploded into a mess of shredded white flesh and spraying blood, but the card men behind them just trampled over the falling bodies without hesitation, and before the villains could react they had been pressed into a circle, frantically trying to hold the advancing legions off.

"I blame the cat." Slade muttered, and as if on cue said cat appeared. Slade glared at it. The cat grinned back, and spoke.

"The wind in the willows and the frog and the toad, a clue is hidden in this load! The warthegups and the tloomarinds frolik in the gimble!"

And the cat disappeared.

And Slade, despite himself, somehow found himself even more annoyed.

* * *

And down below, two literal 'army ants' exploded into flame as Sine blasted them with napalm orbs. A third snapped at her from behind with its deadly sharp incisors, but Sine cartwheeled to the side and then leapt up, severing the ant's head from its 'shoulders'. Another sprinted at her, but Sine didn't run: she just charged at it in turn…and juked to the side at the last second, cutting off the ant's left legs in three quick swipes, then whirling and putting another flame orb into it's back. It writhed and burned. 

And another ten came to take its place.

"Some Raid, some Raid, my kingdom for some Raid." Nightwalker growled, and opened fire with more fire and acid orbs, trying to stem the deadly tide and avoid being surrounded. But there were so many…

And then…things got even worse, as the battle erupted above Sine and the sky began filled with descending, crushing feet of death, a fact Sine found out as her light abruptly cut off and she looked up to see a boot descending on her small, frail form.

"GODDAMN YOU FREDDY!"

* * *

"Ohhhhhhhhh, ain't I a stinker?" The scarred nightmare man cracked, and then laughed wickedly.

* * *

"And I thought I was rid of this situation! Make an exit!" Slade ordered, as he dropped his empty gun and drew his sword, no time to get another firearm as he began slicing and dicing. 

"I'm trying master, but every time I blast a hole it fills right back up!" Kurai yelled.

"Control Freak use your remote!"

"I ran its battery dry back in the police department!"

Slade finally bought himself a second and drew out a SIG 226 pistol, emptying it into attacking card guards. That only bough him another two seconds.

As the cat appeared again.

"I hear it's amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hara-kiri Rock. I need scissors! 61!"

As the cat vanished, Slade wondered, not for the first time, if he was just dreaming.

Then card guards required his blade again.

"FOCUS FIRE THEN! CUT AN ESCAPE PATH! DO IT!" Slade yelled, and a new wave of bullets exploded out, but it seemed pointless: more and more card guards came, pressing in on the villains, as guns ran dry and ranks grew close. Talk about having a dead man's hand…

And then, in mid-attack, the legions of card creatures suddenly stopped.

And then, like someone had flipped a switch, they were all fleeing, trampling over each other to get away from the villains. Their retreat was so total Killjoy and Jack even shot and stabbed several in the back with no repercussions.

Within moments the hedge maze was deserted save for the villains and the fading corpses of card men…and a familiar figure.

"Cowards, one and all..." Alice said, as she stepped out, her arms clutching an overly large shotgun like weapon with a funneled end. "The title of soldier hardly fits them."

"…You again." Slade said, even as he grabbed up and reloaded his gun. Killjoy did the same: the rest of the villains just stared.

"I would be impressed that you survived in Wonderland, were it not for how disappointing these card guards have become." Alice said, as she walked forward, her blunderbuss at the ready. It seemed strange: the girl Alice looked thin, almost abnormally so, and looked rather weak, but her blunderbuss was huge, and she handled it with ease. She seemed intent to walk through the party.

Three laser dots beaded on her head.

"Your babbling feline brought us to this trouble. I suggest you make due for him, or you can pay the devil instead." Slade stated.

"Hey man! Don't shoot Alice! Alice is cool!" Control Freak protested.

"Very well, I will shoot you instead."

"Sorry Alice, you're not that cool." Control Freak quickly said, as he hid behind a weary looking Brick, who had been forced to use his empty gun as a bludgeoning club. At least he wasn't much hurt.

"Hey! I'm down here! WOULD ONE OF YOU DEAF BASTARDS LOOK DOWN!" Sine roared as loud as she could down among the trampled grass, the bodies of ant soldiers strewn around her. Strange how, considering how little experience she had, she had proven better at not getting trodden underfoot then her foes. "WILL ONE OF YOU LOOK DOWN, I'M DOWN HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The villains didn't hear her, but Alice did, as she reached down and plucked Sine up by her tattered cape.

"Hmmmm. Well." Alice said. "You ate one of the carrots, didn't you?"

"I didn't do anything! I walk through a door and suddenly I'm in Honey I Shrunk the Kids!" Sine protested.

Alice looked blankly at the reference, as one would expect, as she shouldered her blunderbuss and reached into an apron pocket with her now free hand, holding up a small piece of mushroom.

"You'll only need a little after all." She said. Sine, perhaps letting her anger at suddenly being shrunk override her common sense, did not hesitate in taking a bite.

BAMF! Sine was back to normal, so quickly Alice took a step back in mild surprise.

"Thanks. That was big of you. Er, I mean…uh…" Sine trailed off.

"If the Queen is so intent on killing you, I'd rather you all live to spite her." Alice said.

"Yes young lady, but that doesn't change the fact our near deaths happened because of your cat." Slade said, his gun still at the ready and aimed at Alice.

"He rarely says anything useful as it is, though he's never put me in harm's way. Can the same be said for you…or perhaps…" Alice said, and raised a hand. Within moments the Cheshire Cat had faded into being next to her. "Ah my dear feline, it is a question to who could hold YOUR tongue, much less speak for it…but that is a riddle I have an answer to." Alice said, as she stroked the cat under the chin.

"…much obliged." The Cheshire Cat said. "Perhaps I shall stay in closer proximity for now... It seems that when I wander there are forces at work beyond even the Queen's control, but you've grown strong enough to fend them off."

"Then I should be able to kill the Queen as well." Alice said, drawing her blunderbuss again.

"Say! Why IS a raven like a writing desk?" Control Freak asked. All the guns switched to him. "On second thought I'm happier not knowing!"

"Even if your cat was controlled by another, we still require an exit. Preferably one to a saner clime." Slade said.

"If another door is all you wish…" Alice said as she turned around.

A lone, possibly driven mad Club card man swung at her.

The next second there was a red and white smear on the hedge wall where a card man had once been, as Alice lowered her smoking gun.

"That should do for interruptions." Alice said, and lead the villains to another door. "Here is where you wish to go. It will also be the last place you wish to go."

"Seek and ye shall find, they say, but they don't say what you'll find." The Cheshire Cat added.

"Don't you have anything useful to tell us?" Alice said with mild exasperation.

"Would a neutering loosen his tongue?" Jack asked as he formed finger blades.

"I can't know everything. Pretend you're an orphan-oh! That was rude, you are." The Cheshire Cat said, and then faded away leaving only a wicked grin, and then not even that.

"Hmph." Alice said, as she once again shouldered her blunderbuss and took out what looked to be a croquet mallet.

Once again, multiple guns were aimed at her.

"I have no trifle with you, or I would not have led you to an exit and put away my weapon. I have other matters to attend to." Alice said as she walked past them and back towards the maze.

"I'd call you mad, except I think you passed that state a while back." Dr. Light said.

"Mad?" Alice said, as she turned and looked back…as for a moment, her eyes blazed. "We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad, otherwise we wouldn't have come here."

As a loud, snarling voice suddenly boomed overhead.

"You bet your ass I'm mad, bitch!"

And Alice and her cat were abruptly swallowed by darkness, darkness that moved to claim the entire hedge maze.

"THROUGH THE DOOR! NOW!" Slade yelled, and the villains as one charged at it, regardless of what was on the other side.

* * *

Which turned out to be…a paper-strewn empty street. 

"We are back in Jump City! Finally free!" Kurai triumphed, as he threw himself on the ground and kissed the street…and then began violently spitting. "PUH! UGH! My gratitude is fading rapidly!"

"And my daughter is the one with the supposed lowered intelligence." Slade said as he looked around, scanning the streets. They'd apparently come out of an empty warehouse, the exit door leading into its dim recesses. The only thing around were trash-strewn windy streets, a few more warehouses, and…

Slade heard the noise bellow behind him, and he whirled.

As the warehouse wall exploded outward, and Goliath smashed his way free, smashing the villains aside like his previous entrance, his body torn, twisted, and ripped into, but still functioning fully well.

"Found you." Goliath said, as its weapons snapped up.

And with a mighty shriek of her own the White Hole leapt onto Goliath, ripping and tearing at it with battered claws as Goliath bellowed and turned its attention to her.

"Why will you not cease function!?!" Goliath snapped, as an arc of electricity zapped out and struck the White Hole, immobilizing her long enough for Goliath to grab her and slam her into the street, shattering the pavement, before he hurled her across the street into another warehouse wall.

And a new storm of firepower greeted Goliath, White Hole having bought time for the villains to regroup. The machine staggered out the assault: accursed alien, it simply would not cease its attack on him, refusing to die…

But neither would Goliath, as it retaliated with a storm of deadly projectiles and arcing electrical and laser blasts, the villains scattering under the scope of the attack as Goliath rampaged forward, heading for the masked leader.

"Rebecca?" Nightwalker said as she ran over to the fallen alien.

"It's life…or replication thereof…is proving remarkably troublesome…to terminate." The White Hole hissed through bloody teeth as she forced herself to her feet. The fact that she was able to do so seemed a miracle: her body looked like it should have ceased living herself four times over.

And she didn't seem to feel any of in. In fact, she looked almost…happy, as Goliath stomped towards Slade.

"Rebecca…"

"Miss Sine. If you still persist in this ridiculous camaraderie you think you and I share…then stand aside. I will finish this on my own." The White Hole coughed, as blood hissed on the ground, leaking from a dozen wounds.

"I'll fight with you…"

"No. You will not." The White Hole said, as she looked at Nightwalker, her eyepatch gone and the dark hole where one eye had been staring at her along with the other, dull black eye. "You will…get its attention. And then stand aside."

Nightwalker looked at the alien, realizing her plan.

"…it will be glorious." She said, finally understanding.

"I produce nothing less." The White Hole said, as she reached deep down within herself. "And now…I shall undo this damnable entity…AND NOTHING LESS!"

And the White Hole charged in berserker fashion, as Sine armed and fired explosive orbs, the projectiles smashed into Goliath and distracting from Slade, as he turned around…

And the White Hole crashed into him, seizing onto his body and actually lifting it up for a moment as she barreled along…

And smashed into the only thing in the area besides warehouses: an electrical substation, the White Hole tearing through the metal structures as wires snapped, transformers blew, and a gigantic eruption of sparks and electrical shorts exploded from the ruins, as Goliath fell to the ground, electricity blasting into him. Had he been at an optimal state, this would have done nothing at all, but the endless barrage of firepower mixed with the never-ceasing attack of the alien…

Who was being zapped herself, but not strong enough to find the two biggest black cables she could, the ends sparking as she seized them up, and leapt.

"FOR THE EMPIRE!"

And she drove them into Goliath's head, and the whole city flickered and darkened as the substation exploded in fire and brilliant radiance.

* * *

"Toast." Adonis said, and kicked Goliath's blackened head, the metal partially crumbling, the creature's body lying prone in the ruins of the power substation. 

"Then we move on." Slade said, and turned away, leading the group onward as Goliath's body began to fade away.

And nearby, lying prone, unmoving, was the scorched and blackened body of the White Hole, thrown clear but not unaffected. There had been only one exit from the path the White Hole had walked, and it was evident to Sine even before she knelt by the alien.

"it…dead?" The White Hole rasped.

"…ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Nightwalker replied. The White Hole let out a low chuckle, as blood streamed from her mouth.

"…well…then…guess…it's done. Like…dinner." White Hole chuckled. "…sorry…kid…you're…on…your…own…now."

"I can take care of myself." Nightwalker said.

"…huh…I guess….you can." The White Hole said. "Strange…the…thought…just…strange?"

And then the White Hole shuddered and went still.

Sine looked down at her, and then closed her remaining eye, a gesture that was surely a first for the alien. Her death was always celebrated, never mourned.

But times change.

"…it can be undone." Nightwalker whispered. "Stopping the manifestation undoes its acts. It did for me…I will do it for you. I promise."

"Miss Sine, move or be left." Slade called. Nightwalker didn't hesitate, as she stood up.

"Rest now. Time for me to raze some hell."

And Nightwalker sheathed the Lightscourge and chased after the villains, as they moved into the blighted, cursed city.

* * *

"AND NOW YOU DIE!" The Sugarman yelled as he kicked a door down and charged…into a shattered, broken ruin that had once been the Villain Café, now long empty and abandoned. 

"…hey, where did everybody go? Was it something I said?"

* * *

**_Next Time, In Boogeymen III!_**

_"So where are we NOW?" Slade cursed._

_"We're on a journey of souls and swords, while searching for the ultimate blade, the Soul Calibur." Dr. Westminister said._

_"Dibs on Nightmare's moveset!" Control Freak called._

_"AW!"_

**8888**_  
_

_"Oh here I come back from the dead the dead to…" Zombie Strong Bad declared…before his head broke off his neck and rolled away. "HOLY craaaaaaaap…!"_

**8888**_  
_

_"So, Wade Wilson, we finally meet!" Deathstroke declared._

_"…what a twist!" Deadpool said._

**8888**_  
_

_"So wait, that supposed Japanese only ending where Godzilla wins is just a Hollywood myth? WHAT A LOAD OF CRAP!" Control Freak complained._

_"Grrrrr roarrrr groarrr." King Kong said. (No, that would be the American Godzilla remake)_

_"RAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" Godzilla bellowed. (Oh shut up Mr. Peter Jackson on speed dial!)_

**8888**_  
_

_And on his Gamestation, Jedi-And played a game…a game called Boogeymen III._

_"__Oh come on! This is the cheesiest sequel ever!"_


	6. I KICK YOUR FACE!

_Part 6: I KICK YOUR FACE!_

_**Some people might have wanted summaries of things I did not provide. Well, I wanted to talk about massacres and wasted life, but SOMEONE turned me into an Explanation Machine needed because she needs someone to tell you where all these obscure things come from, because unlike most reading this work, she has NO LIFE!**_

And at the moment, neither do you.

_…………**touché.**_

_**Also, there are no guarantees in this chapter that anyone will actually get kicked in the face.**_

* * *

"All right Red, you listen and you listen good!" Freddy snarled to his audience of two: a rather bored looking Alice and an ever-grinning Cheshire Cat. "I was made purely, you get it? I sprang into existence as the stuff nightmares are made of! You know what you are? Some emo punk who's overdosed on Nine Inch Nails taking the masturbation fantasy of an old paedophile and drenching it in gothic nonsense! You want to interfere in my film? I outta gut you like a fresh-killed rabbit." Freddy growled, threatening with his Lord-stolen clawed arm, his robed Lieutenants as ever around him, though even the talking one was silent for now.

"You have no authority over me, and I am more than ready to prove it in battle if you are so inclined." Alice replied. Freddy's eyes blazed.

"BLOW ME! YOU, BLOW HER! UP!" Freddy yelled, and one of the robed Lieutenants (not the speaking one) thrust up an arm.

A powerful missile fired from within his cloaks, streaking at Alice.

Alice brought up her own weapon, a blue-whitish staff, and fired a stream of intense cold from it, freezing the rocket in mid-air. It crashed to the ground, shattering.

Freddy looked balefully at Alice.

"You should not be able to do that. I AM IN CHARGE OF THIS MANIFESTATION! ALL OF IT! YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE OF IT! ONLY BECAUSE OF IT!" Freddy roared.

"Claiming leadership simply because no one else has taken such initiative is unwise…perhaps there is more to this situation than meets even your omniscient eyes." The Cheshire Cat grinned.

"Don't make me puppetmaster you again you mangy babbler, I'll toss you in a Tweety cartoon this time!"

"I'd hardly turn down a meal." The Cheshire Cat said, and once again defied the concept of muscle limits to give a wide, tooth-decayed grin.

"I think we shall take our leave instead. You are wasting my time and the Queen sorely needs to be removed from Wonderland." Alice said. " 'Horrors' such as yourself are only make-believe; I am reality. I am present, in one form or another, in every person's mind. You are just a patron. Go back where you belong and leave me be." Alice said, and turned and strode into the darkness. The Cheshire Cat smiled wickedly and faded once more to a grin, which floated after her.

Freddy glared after them.

"If you only knew the finer points of reality and make-believe, bitch." He growled to himself.

"Is it true, Krueger? Are there aspects out there you cannot control?" The speaking Lieutenant asked.

"I didn't think it was so severe! There are some that have some leeway due to age and…nature…but…no, he's dealt with. Which means I have to deal with my playthings."

"Since you were taking so long, I sent something already to occupy them."

"Oh? What?"

* * *

The streets were empty of people and far too quiet…so of course, something utterly nonsensical had to happen.

"Get lost Peregrine. We don't want to ride on your flying motorcycle." Slade said, looking at the doctor who was indeed floating nearby on a flying motorcycle.

"No need to be rude!" Dr. Peregrine said, and flew onward…not noticing the cat on the nearby roof, as it looked down on the villains, watching them rather alertly.

"That would have just led to trouble. I've learned enough from this night's experience to guess that." Slade said, as the villains resumed reloading and re-arming themselves (which had required another enlarge/shrink cycle for the ammo crates and more bitching from the Sorceress) as they took a brief break, there being no apparent threats at the time. But they were waiting for them.

Well, most were.

The doctor known as Westminster pulled out a small bag from one of the many pockets on his combat vest: it wasn't surprising that he had something for most considered situations with all those pockets, pouches and more. He obviously wasn't one for the whole idea of the 90's comics where they had a similar compliment of pouches that held… nothing.

His held assistance. Taking out a bandage from the bag, he started to wrap the arm of young Miss Sine. It wasn't much of a problem, a winging gotten during the final Goliath fight, but she wanted it to be bandaged in case she had to perform some form of crazed acrobatics at a moment's notice, and the last thing she needed there was the wound opening further or becoming infected. Sine watched for a moment as the villain applied firm, yet cautious 'doctoring' to the area.

It was notable, even to her: the newcomer didn't present all the classic signs of villainy, especially the primary one: the self-preservation mentality of first come gets all. He didn't have a snarling tone or a hateful glare. He was calm, collected and considerate. Not really the mindset of the world she currently walked in, for her own reasons and purposes.

One thing seemed to strike her as especially odd: the lack of a big appearance. No splashy debut, no explosive eruption on the scene, he just started off quietly and seemed to…just show up.

"Who are you?" She asked inquisitively.

"Me? Doctor Richard Westminster, MD." Westminster replied.

"Great, knowing my luck that probably stands for Manic Depressive, right?" She joked. Westminster chuckled lightly himself and tied off the uniform bandage. Sine pulled her costume back on, her exposed arm and shoulder once again covered by the armored 'skin'.

"Not quite. I am a legitimate doctor…just a doctor lacking every sort of luck I can imagine, I'm sure." He spoke, placing the gear away again for inevitable usage later. "Why the interest?"

"Probably because she thinks you're an untrustworthy bastard too, Pom." Jack called over from where he sat, lounging in a position that could only be described as a uniquely Jack-like pose, a body language position he would always be in, no matter the situation.

"Go to hell and die, asswipe. You'll burn real good on the way down." Nightwalker retorted. Jack offered little more than a growl before Slade aimed a gun at him.

"Don't bother Jack. It's hard enough to coordinate a group of self-centered individuals, let alone a group of self-assured survivors without them ripping each other apart. Last thing we need is to lose our medic. You, on the other hand, are just another pair of hands."

"Nasty motherfucking hands." Jack said, as he formed various instruments of torture with the red energy that made up the appendages for him now.

"But expendable. Keep that in mind."

"Uh Slade-sama…does that apply to everyone?"

"You have your use as a blaster, Kurai. It would depend on the circumstances on just why you would need to be disposed."

"…right sir." Kurai gulped, as he glanced at Rose, who was fiddling with her gun.

"I'd just like to know a little more. I learn, and then I act. I'm not like most of them who act and forget to think all together." Nightwalker said, glaring at Jack, who flipped her off.

"Not much to tell. I gained my powers, tested them out, became a villain as a necessity, wound up in the bar and got landed in a whole lot of trouble." He said, checking out his pack again, making sure everything was loaded and ready to move.

"Just because you tell it that way doesn't mean there wasn't more to it. It just means you've simplified it to the point of redundancy." Sine responded, smirking.

"Oh for crying out loud, what is this, an After School Special?" Jack snapped.

"I'd prefer it." Slade replied. "Do you think you could switch us to such an atmosphere Control Freak?"

"You kidding? With this dinky thing? Pigs will fly sooner, WITHOUT assistance." Control Freak replied.

"If you had any concept of intelligence, you would have brought a spare remote, or a better power source for the one you did. Then again, your lack of intelligence was somewhat helpful in that video game. I'm torn. No, wait, no I'm not. You're a fool, in video games or whatnot." Slade commented.

"A useful fool!"

"That's debatable."

"Well sorry Slade! Next time we're in a video game I'll just punch in the Konami Code somewhere and see how that helps us fare! Or hell even better I'll just plug in the Doom God code, it's short enough even for you to remember, it's I-D-D-Q-D…" Control Freak yelled.

A bullet exploded on the ground near his foot.

"Your development of an attitude is inimical to our continued survival. Work on recharging your battery. And be warned that next time I won't waste my bullet." Slade said. Control Freak shut up.

"You know, he's the one who wound him up." Sorceress commented to Brick.

"Yes…but…" Brick trailed off.

"What?" Sorceress said, as she stared at Brick's blank face, as he looked dumbly ahead for several seconds before shaking his head.

"Sorry, seemed to have zoned out. Al Capone said you could get further with a kind word and a gun then a kind word alone. The same holds for mean words, I suppose." Brick said.

"Redundant or no, it's not as exciting as being told the other way, which can be somewhat misleading." Westminster stated succinctly. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, uh, the usual. How did you obtain your powers? I mean the ability to grow bone isn't exactly a commonly needed or wanted power."

"Well, someone wanted it. It was a project in the military, trying to make soldiers that could keep going in spite of a broken bone as they could grow a new one, or an exo-skeletal structure, or have a weapon at hand at all times…I don't know what the specific end result was, as the brief changed every day it would seem." He scratched his brow lightly with his thumb, the white mask over his face hardly moving at all like skin would, as the green surgeon's mask continued to move with his speech. "As a 'bone doctor' I was brought in to try and see if the project would be somewhat plausible, which it happened to be, as my unfortunate fate would indicate. They needed a test subject, someone smart enough to be able to know what bone does what and where…and they didn't really have any other candidates."

"It wasn't voluntary?" Sine asked; her mouth slightly open in surprise. There were still parts of the world she did not understand much of.

"It was. Either I would be their test subject, or they would shoot me so full of holes I could have a part time job as a wind chime." He joked, though a slight undertone of bitter rage was quite apparent. "So, at gun point, I got into the mechanism that made me a visual cacophony. On my end, the theory, the mathematics and the biology were all spot on. It was the execution of the procedure, their end, the actual implementation that made it go wrong."

"You mean they did it incorrectly?"

"No, the worrying thing is they did it right. In their eyes, they did the procedure perfectly. It was just a bad procedure. It was like… cutting off a leg when you need to replace an artery… no, a better description would be it was like you asked your friend, a trainee builder, to plaster the walls, and he ended up leaving it a patchy, uneven, cracked mess that would come tumbling down sooner rather then later. And that was when he did the best he could."

"And you're the breaking wall."

"Quite. I stumbled out of the machine and the first thing I did was scream as my spine duplicated itself outside of my body. From there it kind of went downhill. I was in seething agony for most of the time while they continued with their experiments, breaking my arm to see if I could re-grow it, and then doing worse. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Eventually the British military I once belonged to realized that one of their Captain's were missing and went looking, which led to them realizing the American research cell was thus continuing their experiments unlawfully. Heaven forbid." The last comment was dripping with sarcasm and self loathing, a combination that was often reserved for self pity, but perhaps in this case it was more linked to the fact that the man now hated the army that used to provide him with a livelihood, and had hated that he once believed in it. "Anyway they came along to clear the cell out and the head guard snapped my neck in that 'I could shoot you but I will show off' sort of way. The second spine allowed me to snap my neck back into place, which I'm gathering he knew…he just didn't expect me to be so quick about it. I tackled him before he could leave: he tried to shoot me but a strong layer of bone now covered my ribcage, above my heart. The surefire kill shot was not, for me. I was just lucky he was a good shot, an inch left or right and I wouldn't be here." Westminster tapped his chest lightly, a hollow thunk coming from him, as if to show that his powers had started to fully return. They both paused at this before he sighed lightly; so much for having no pain again. What a time to be without any painkillers. Maybe if he was lucky the fiction manifestation would cause Dr. House to stroll by and Westminster could bum some meds off him.

"Then what happened?"

"I got dropped from the service, having needed to be in constant medical care. Eventually that stopped as well, and I decided to come to America to use my powers. I arrived in a place called Rhode Island, a place with plenty of mystics and strange goings on, but hardly any super heroes and villains of any kind, so the need for a superpowered person on a payroll was not needed…"

"I KNEW IT! TRAITOR! YOU'RE A HERO!" Jack shouted. A red dot appeared on his forehead, and he growled and settled back down, glaring at Dr. Westminster. The others also seemed to wonder some about his last statement, but at this point Westminster didn't care: all he knew was that if he didn't tell it now, he'd be killed eventually for sure.

"No, I'm not. I TRIED to be, I admit that. I held my head high and each time I walked in to make a deal for my services they literally laughed me out of their offices. I needed the money, I can't live in my body without the painkillers I take, or I'd end up going insane. And since they continued to send me packing, I decided that the pain was too much and did the next best thing…"

"You robbed a bank. The Rhode Island 'bone robbery.' I read of it." Slade finished, having found it in the paper over a breakfast of grape fruit at one point. Apparently the men and women of the bank were 'staked' to the walls of the bank with bony staffs as the robber went in, raided the place and left with handfuls of money, all of which ended up in the hands of drug dealers who dealt in painkillers and general analgesics. No one died, but there were a lot of stitches to be passed out… and a missing can of cola. According to the dealers once they were caught, a military figure had been the one who bought these loads of hospital strength painkillers, but nothing else. And he knew enough to always came back if the dose was spoiled or corrupted in any way, and would break their legs if he found they dealt to children before taking his drugs and going.

"I'm afraid it was much more out of necessity than anything villainous, however necessity or not I was now labeled a criminal for breaking numerous laws and… well…people." Westminster scratched the back of his head lightly, his thoughts turning once again to his powers. He still felt hair under his mask, which was good…but even that had started to be covered with a bone layer again. Not so good.

"How many laws?" Blackfire asked, with that ultra-irritating tone only bitches seemed to have.

"One for something about improper immigration, several counts of assault and armed robbery, one account of grand theft auto and grand theft, but no murder."

"Hah, you're not even a real villain then! You're not much of anything!" Jack taunted.

"Your opinion on what a villain is would actually mean something if you knew what you were talking about. If we were operating on quality, we'd have dropped Puppet King and Dr. Light a while back, and you'd be right after them for being an unreliable maniac!" Sine snapped.

"You're one to really talk ain't 'cha birdy? You're the same! You ain't got a clue who you are or anythin'. You've got your head so far up Slade's ass you can see daylight! You don't know if you're comin' or goin' and with how you've been recently I ain't gonna be surprised if we drop YOU completely. For bein' unreliable."

"How about I crack your skull and see if you're coming or going?" Sine asked, aiming her orb launcher.

"Try it bitch."

"That's it Jack…" Slade began.

"OHSHITOHSHIT HERE COMES TROUBLE!" The Puppet King screamed. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

And then it enveloped him. The villains all jumped to their feet, as the massive mass of pink goo surged completely out of the shadows.

"…and now we're being attacked by bubble gum." Slade muttered, and opened fire.

* * *

"…what is THAT?" Freddy yelled.

"It's the Blob." The Lieutenant replied.

"What the hell is a BLOB going to do?"

"Hopefully kill some of them?"

"Through SUFFOCATION? That's so lame!"

"It doesn't suffocate. It's designed like a giant moving stomach: its body breaks down and digests any organic material. It's also nigh-invulnerable to conventional harm, as you can see." The lieutenant said, as the gunfire and power blasts of the villains were clearly doing nothing.

"That's so STUPID! It's got no personality! No pizzaz! It's just a damn STOMACH. It doesn't even THINK!"

"It's strong, it's swift, it's adaptable, and it's difficult to damage! Your robot emissary didn't have half those traits! What does personality matter, if it thins out the ranks some?"

"Because that's what it's all ABOUT! We're NOT just another lame serial killer or force of nature! We've got class, style, IMAGE! THAT...THING IS A GIANT PINK BLOB! WHAT the FUCK is cool about a BLOB?"

"I still say it will prove effective for eliminating the ones you would consider 'dull'."

"Fucking eighties!" Freddy growled.

"You were yourself created during the eighties."

"That was the ONLY good thing about the eighties!"

* * *

It's hard to say that something like the blob can be scary, for it's a blob…

But the villains weren't laughing at the Blob for being a blob. They were not laughing at all.

Not even when, with a scream, it spat Puppet King back out, apparently finding him inedible despite being organic material, as the unlucky bastard flew through the air and crashed into another wall. A moment later tentacles of pink goop sprang from the Blob's body and tore towards the villains.

"DON'T LET IT TOUCH YOU!" Control Freak yelled as he ran away. "IT TOUCHES YOU YOU'RE DEAD!"

For once the villains didn't have a smartass reply, as they scattered away from the grabbing tendrils, still firing uselessly on the Blob. Killjoy even launched a grenade into it: it exploded dully inside the pink mass, doing little more then causing it to bloom out for a moment. Then Killjoy ran.

The villains did likewise, as Blackfire flew up, Jack jumped to the nearest building and climbed up via Grimmer claws, and Kurai grabbed Rose and then put as much energy into firing a blast at the Blob as he could, propelling them back down the street they'd been resting in and away from the Blob. On a side note, his blast did strike the creature, but it barely seemed to feel it.

And Brick tried the old fashioned method of running…but the Blob was a lot faster then it looked, as it shot out its tentacles at Brick.

"BRICK!" Sorceress called, and then with no time cast the first spell she had: a speed spell.

It worked, too well, as Brick's speed suddenly increased 20-fold, but not at his command, and as a result Brick outran the Blob's tentacles with a surprised look before face-planting right into the side of a building, causing the whole structure to shake. On top, the strange cat jumped in surprise, and then decided it had best be elsewhere and ran off: the Blob was known for eating cats as well as humans.

"Brick!" Sorceress called, as Brick stumbled and shook his head.

"He's on his own for now Miss Ithlian!" Slade snapped as he grabbed the Sorceress and threw her over his shoulder as she yelled in surprise, running away from the Blob before it could turn it's attention to them. "I actually saw the original of this film! I know the only thing that harms it is cold! So start whipping something up, FAST!"

"IYEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Dr. Light screamed as the Blob chased him, before Adonis grabbed him and activated rockets in his boots, throwing them into the air and onto a nearby roof. Robbed of it's targets, the Blob quickly changed them and went after the next pair: Nightwalker and Dr. Westminster.

And neither was going to go quietly, as both opened fire on the creature with orb launcher and assault rifle. The Blob surged at them, and they split up, still firing. The Blob, perhaps unsurprisingly, went after Sine.

But she wasn't just going to let it get an easy meal, as she flipped, spun, jumped, spun, landed, rolled, jumped, spun, landed and dove again before reloading her gauntlets. No matter what the Blob tried, Sine was one step ahead.

But when attempting to catch her by arm or by its own body failed to work for the SUV sized blob of disintegrating mass, The Blob also adapted, as it surged off the ground in a wave and slammed down upon the ground where Sine had crouched.

"SHIT!" She yelled, throwing himself backwards without realizing where she was going. The Blob missed her…but she also dove right into an alleyway, greatly narrowing her range of movement.

And the Blob was on her, surging into the alleyway to drag her down and devour her.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!" Nightwalker cursed as she ran back a few steps, turned, looked around frantically, and spied her escape, as she ran up the side of a wall, leapt off, and jumped up to the emergency escape of a nearby building, where she swung on the emergency ladder to avoid the attack. Sine then propelled herself up the ladder in a quick jump, landing on the bottom floor of the escape.

That didn't stop the Blob, as it surged up to get her even as she tried to get up to the next level.

"HEY!"

Help came from the ground, as the less mobile Doctor Westminster fired off his retrieved M16 as fast as it would allow, the older assault riffle attempting to rip apart the gooey mass of gunk in the hope of dispersing it to some degree. Unfortunately, his wishes were not answered, as Westminster watched in horror that the parts that he did shoot off just flowed back to combine with the main mass.

At least he got its attention, as the Blob turned to the doctor and charged. Kinetic force hadn't worked, so the doctor switched to electric force, as the military man turned on the secondary weapon of his assault riffle, the shock-gun segment under the main barrel. Sparks shot in front of him in an impressive blast as the actual shot of electricity flew forth in one clear 'bullet' of power, one that fried a zombie in its tracks with ease, and one Westminster rather enjoyed.

This was the Blob. It did nothing.

Or to be more specific, it didn't even get a chance to do nothing as the Blob, in mid blast, opened up its body, creating a hole for the discharged energy to fly through, hitting and electrifying the dumpster behind it.

"Oh come on." Westminster complained.

The Blob surged forward, nearly grabbing Westminster as he ran backwards…as the tendrils sprang out and grabbed at him, one seizing him M16 and pulling it away as another finally got ahold of him, grabbing him by the left forearm.

Westminister reacted on instinct, as a forearm blade of bone exploded out of his right arm and the doctor slashed down, just managing to sever the tentacle before it could firm its grip, as Westminister stumbled backwards, ripping off the wrist arm of his jacket in the process as he turned and ran for it.

"Doc!" Sine called, and then she snapped in a clip of acid orbs: the Blob was made of a caustic gel, maybe she could trigger a chemical reaction!

She didn't, and the Blob surged after Westminister, as he fled into a store on the opposite end. A convenience store.

As a new assault erupted on the streets, as Killjoy stepped out and opened fire on the Blob with a FN SCAR-L Mk. 17 machine gun, the new peppering of bullets distracting the Blob away from the store. It was more distracted when Blackfire swooped down and rained Blackbolts down on it. Determined to keep it distracted, Sine snapped in a new clip of napalm orbs and fired them into the Blob, as it flowed away from the store and started for Killjoy.

And the environment then struck, as Rose popped up on the roof above the convenience store. And it had one specific target.

"HAVE MORE BALLS OF BOOM!" Rose yelled, and dropped several grenades down into the Blob.

Explosions erupted from it, doing nothing…but the heat and shrapnel caused a chain reaction as a few near cars blew in turn.

Which made the Blob lash them away.

Which made a piece of metal fly out as a very specific angle and slam into Nightwalker's unarmored forehead.

Normally, she'd have had her helmet up, but at the moment, it was malfunctioning, leaving her cranium nice and exposed for a concussive impact, as Sine lurched to the side and then blackness claimed her, as she fell over the edge of the balcony and into the garbage strewn alleyway below.

The trash cushioned her fall, but she was now a sitting duck for the Blob, as it turned and slithered for the alleyway again, heading for the resting place of the young, promising villainess, a mouth almost forming in itsgoo like substance to devour her…

Before the bag of crushed ice was thrown onto its back, and it recoiled from the sensation…as another bag was hurled on. The Blob jerked and spasmed, withdrawing from Nightwalker's alleyway.

"YEAH THAT'S IT! GET IT! GET IT!" Control Freak yelled as Dr. Westminster hurled another bag of crushed ice, taken from the convenience store. The Blob spasmed anew, as Dr. Westminster began to retreat…

But despite finally being disrupted, it wasn't finished, as the Blob surged around and shot out several tentacle arms, and before Westminster could react it had him, yanking him up with a yell.

"…nice knowing you!" Control Freak said, and ran away, as Westminster screamed and the Blob drew him in…

And stopped as it suddenly flashed, and then it was no longer a pink moving Blob. It was a dull blue frozen in place Blob.

"………………GUH!" Westminster yelped as he broke himself free from the frozen arms, making sure not a single piece stuck to him as he backed up.

"Very nice Miss Ithlian." Slade said as he approached with the Sorceress: the plan had almost been compromised (you think Killjoy and Blackfire had attacked for a nice reason? They'd been given an order by Slade: lure the Blob into an open part of street so the Sorceress could freeze it, before his overenthusiastic daughter had screwed it up, but they'd managed a rebound), but it had worked. "Now get rid of it."

"And good riddance." The Sorceress said, as a dome of energy formed over the Blob, and then the section of the street it was on erupted out of the ground and flew up into the air, as Sorceress managed to use what she'd regained of her powers to toss it into space.

* * *

"I never once said it was infallible." The Lieutenant said.

"IT WAS A FUCKING BLOB! How did you expect it to work ANYWAY?"

"Better."

"Next time you have an idea, TRY THINKING ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU USE IT!"

"If that was the norm, most of your sequels would never have been made."

"That was different! I was original! Unique! I had personality, and dammit, I SCARED THE FUCK OUT OF PEOPLE. THAT ABOMINATION WAS NOT SCARY! LET ME SHOW YOU HOW TO PUT THE FEAR OF GOD INTO PEOPLE!" Freddy yelled, and began to type.

* * *

And Sine, still dazed, experienced a tingle in her spine while unconscious as the world of horror worked its 'magic'…

* * *

"So much for the problem of the Blob. It was an annoying one too. " Slade said, unloading his gun of the burden of an empty magazine and replacing it with a full one, followed by a few cocking actions and a holstering move set.

"But it's a Blob!" Control Freak shouted, Slade quickly redrew his side arm. "Ah, of course.. aheh…"

"Are you all right Brick?" Sorceress asked the giant as he walked slowly over to the group.

"Been…better." Brick said, rubbing his head.

"You didn't damage the gatling gun did you Vogel?" Slade asked.

"…No Wilson…I did not break…your precious gun."

"Good. Maybe the next threat will actually allow you to do something besides give yourself a headache. Are we all here?" Slade asked, looking around. The question was rhetorical: had the answer been 'no', he most likely wouldn't have cared. "No casualties? Then we're moving out. Grab your gear. You all have one minute and anyone who complains gets shot."

Perhaps had this been a somewhat more common situation in which Slade had been forced to worth with others he would have been a bit looser. But this was not normal, and his rigid sense of what was real and not had crashed into this quandary, thus forcing him in to a policy that was mostly fight or flight. He wasn't afraid of a fight, but he wasn't going to stupidly wait around for one.

The villains gathered themselves together.

"Where's Nightwalker?" Doctor Westminster asked.

"Ugh…here!" A female voice called from down the alleyway, making a few of the villains who had nothing to pack peer over to have a look.

Sine partly pushed a piece of metal off her, the sheet of corrugated metal sliding off of her form with relative ease, allowing her to sit up and then stand up.

Which was when the watching villains noticed something was off. The sleek black uniform Nightwalker wore seemed to span too much of the darkness cast by the buildings. Her wholesome face seemed too soft at the edges. Killjoy tilted his head in an owl-like manner as Sine walked to the alley entrance, holding her head gently while the other just stared in a rather dumb struck manner.

"…What?" She asked.

Westminster went through his pockets, searching for a particular item for several seconds before he came across it. Pulling out a small handheld mirror, he took a cautious step forward, arm at full reach to avoid any possible wrath.

Sine snatched up the mirror like a staring animal at a meal, staring into it a moment before examining the rest of her.

She stood roughly 5ft 6 inches as she always had, and she still had a wholesome face with freckles across the nose, blonde hair (once red) and jade eyes; nothing had changed that much in such a respect. She was still herself, mentally at least. She liked what she liked and disliked what she didn't, so what could be different?

She looked closer.

Her face was now in a rounder frame, with fuller cheeks and plumped lips. The mild makeup Sine did wear enhanced that further. Her chin was fleshier, with a thicker neck wrapped in the black cloth of her outfit. Slightly broader shoulders sloped down into a fuller figure, hardly contained by the suit of technology and polymers. Larger breasts and a belly very full of girth was now her frame, the tight outfit pulled taunt once again. Sine ran her hand, which was somewhat shaking, down the side of her hips. Wide and large, with thick thighs and what would most likely be a larger rump also. Her cape, fortunately for her, was covering it.

Sine, a genetically gifted and well trained athlete… was fat. One hundred and sixty pounds at least.

* * *

"And precisely how is this scary?" The lieutenant asked.

"It's REALITY."

"…all right, I'll give you that one."

* * *

At the realization of what her body had changed, Sine seemed to swoon, only to be quickly grabbed by Dr. Westminster.

"Hey! Don't go out on us!" The doctor said, struggling to keep Sine up.

"Good god! Did she eat a few ton of chocolate while we weren't looking?" Kurai said, goggling at Sine's altered form.

"…yes! Maybe I finally have a chance now!" Control Freak cheered, before Brick smacked him across the head. "OW!"

"This is not the time or the right words." Brick growled to the gamer.

"I believe that the term is 'Bloody Hell'." Doctor Westminster said quietly.

"Heh, you can say than again, Pommy." Jack said, looking wickedly amused.

"You be quiet convict."

"Arsehole!"

"Jackarse!"

Slade raised his gun at the arguing pair, whom both quieted down rather rapidly afterwards.

Sine shook the cobwebs out of her head, as the air of surreal disbelief washed over her again. All her hard work, her effort, her training, all the times she had stayed off chocolate, all the times she had walked past bakeries and fought temptation…of all the pitfalls of life, this was one she had wanted to avoid the most. And now…

She managed to stand upright on her own, issuing Westminster away and making sure he stood back to see if she could manage it on her own.

She took a few breaths, first checking to see she could actually breathe in her costume now. She wasn't sure if the outfit had stretched or had been resized to fit her new body but either way it didn't have a lot of give…oh geez, how the hell was she supposed to handle this…

The villains could see the scared look on her face, as for the first time and for the first of all the transformations she didn't know what to do; the proper way to counteract it completely eluded her. When she was enhanced to a figure of someone from Dead or Alive she could counterbalance her weight and thus continue her flips. Her hair had become a bit longer when it turned blonde but she still had managed to tie it back and continue on. When small, all she'd had to do more flips and twists to avoid being stepped on, and she'd survived.  
But like this…

"The atmosphere?" Slade said to the Sorceress.

"Seems so." Sorceress replied.

"Hmmmmmm. All right people, we're moving on. Let's go." Slade said. He gave just one look to Sine for a moment, making the girl feel like she wanted to turn in on herself and implode. His cold, staring gaze, not apologizing a whit for the action he planed to take next. Sine looked back, at a man briefly considering and turning around information before deciding how, when and where to act upon what he had accumulated.

Sine saw it, and she knew what it meant.

He was now re-evaluating her worth. And there would be no good from it at all.

"Let's go. We're going to be moving full speed; those who can't keep up will be left behind." He ordered, turning his back to her once again and lifting up his fallen weapons, reloading, reequipping, and re-sheathing anything that needed to be. The others were, for the most part, ready.

Sine started for a moment as the others began to move, Slade once again taking point and jogging off at some speed out between the buildings and ally ways, through the empty streets. He couldn't be serious! Not everyone could keep the pace that the mercenary had set! Control Freak, Brick and even the Sorceress were slower than he was! How could he leave such needed, or unwanted but still needed, personnel behind alongside her? Was it some warped way of helping her?

Unfortunately, that possibility was based on what Nightwalker couldn't possibly have foreseen happening next.

Brick picked up the Sorceress again, whose legs couldn't keep up with the running, and thus took her with him. Sine wondered how he could run so fast, some things considering. Well his legs weren't as slow as his brain once was, not to mention being smarter let him do such things as take long strides and jumping bounds, his footsteps thundering.

And Control Freak…promptly zapped up a device to help him, a jet belt with boosters strapped to it that looked like something out of the 1960's science fiction. Having contributed nothing to the Blob fight besides some cheerleading and tell Doctor Westminster its weakness, his remote had the power to make that device, allowing him to speed off after Slade who made a decent pace.

It struck the young vigilante that she'd actually had to run herself.

Taking off at her usual pace, Sine quickly realized she wouldn't be able to keep it up: her cardiovascular training seemed intact but she simply wasn't used to the weight of her new form. Thinking back to the very start of her training, she decided that perhaps it would be better to keep a constant pace rather than trying to keep up with the fast ones. They might have be fast, but it would be doubtful that they could keep that up for that long, so if she could stay at a constant pace…

….and she was just kidding herself. Slade and Killjoy were highly trained men, as were Slade's apprentices and Dr. Westminster. They all ran at a decent speed despite the fact most of them were laden with equipment and gear. The others kept up via having less gear and the slower ones kept up for the reasons given. At the back, poor, poor Sine struggled, her breath becoming short and her freckled cheeks reddening with effort. She tried to maximize her speed by taking longer strides to allow her to cover more distance with less effort, which provided her a jogging rate at best, her newly hefty frame hugged tightly inside her black suit and slowed such efforts down.

She wanted to call after them, scream out 'Wait!', she wanted to try and slow them down so she wouldn't be left in this nightmare, but she had more dignity than that, she had more self respect than to panic in the face of such adversity. She wanted to, but she couldn't call out, she couldn't bring her voice to bear, she couldn't…break character.

And she knew it wouldn't matter; even if by some miracle Slade had a change of heart, the environment wouldn't let them hear her. It wanted her, separate from the others and vulnerable to kill. You NEVER signed on to appear in a horror movie sequel: unless you were Neve Campbell you would be dead in the first reel.

And just to completely drive that point home, a fog seemed to spring up from nowhere, the streets going from clear to pea-soup in seconds.

As the men and women disappeared into the mist, Sine slowed to a stop, her arms swinging lightly as her ample chest heaved to try and fill her body with the air she needed. A certain type of despair came over her, with a feeling of uneasy acceptance following.

She was not going to survive this.

The plump blonde leaned over, placing her hands on her knees; she felt she could weep for all the time it would take the atmosphere to send one of its monstrous subjects to chew on her. Her only consolation in this state was that it would take them a while to chew through her and she would give them a heart attack. Her nimble, minx like form gone, her pert little breasts and behind now ballooned out in to what she was now. Like Freddy had said, reality could be scarier then anything…

"Come on Nightwalker!"

Out of the fog rushed Westminster, his olive clad form slowing in front of her before grabbing the vigilante's hand and pulling at it. Even with her added girth, Westminster managed to drag her a little before Sine took up the responsibility of running herself, trying to keep up with the ex-military man. He slowed his tempo down to accommodate her, even if it disadvantaged him.

"Guh… Why?" She tried to ask, her once stealthy step turned effortlessly into a thundering footfall by the environmental change.

"I'll answer later!" Westminster replied, as they turned a corner, running as fast as the pair could. Sine tripped a few times but kept up, or rather was forced to; The Doctor had a strong grip.

They turned around another corner and under an archway that had a bridge upon it leading between two buildings, their pace continuing as they passed through the dense fog as they drew closer and closer towards the 'friends' they had just left. They do say that safety is always in numbers, ESPECIALLY in horror films: you were never on your own unless you want a 9.5/10 chance of death, and thus people who were properly genre-savvy stayed together. On their own they were vulnerable; they wanted to get back to their little 'gang'. They NEEDED to get back.

But despite their pace and their will, they had not needed, wanted or anticipated the chained fence, covered in wooden planks and industrial 'roof' coverings to prevent the fence from being damaged. With red spray painted writing saying "No Access" and "No way through" just to drive the point home.

Westminster hit the wall, hands out front in an unwelcome slam, only briefly able to stop himself from hitting it at full speed.

"Damnit!" He yelled, looking up at the monstrous wall, covering the entire street and alleyways either side, going up and up and up seemingly for miles. Sine came to a stop behind him, out of breath and in need of a rest, her red face showing off how much of a target she was. It was a surprise you could see her freckles at all.

Westminster pawed across the wall in the vain hope that there was a place where they could get through. He remembered, he KNEW that it was around here that he had turned back to get the laboring Sine: he recalled the buildings and the archway at the corner of the street. And THIS wasn't here! He would have remembered something like THIS!

"Oh this isn't good…." The Englishman stated, a slight panic filling his well-spoken voice as he finished attempting to claw his way through the wall and searching his multiple pockets again. Sine watched with baited breath, or at least it would be if she still weren't trying to regain the oxygen count.

Taking a small black device out of his pocket, Westminster pressed a few buttons on it. It seemed to be a GPS, but like most things in horror films, it refused to work. Nothing you needed ever worked there. It was amazing they had managed the success they'd had with guns.

Bah.

Placing the device back into one of his (many) pockets on the outside of his jacket, Westminster looked around briefly, his hand stroking his masked chin lightly, covered eyes gazing around here, there and everywhere. Sine could see the gears in his head twirling, turning, grinding and changing directions as he pondered and postulated.

He then drew a handgun and filled the wall full of lead.

"Nope, that didn't work." He commented, half surprised and half hopeful that the pitiful nine-millimeter rounds would actually do something against a seemingly immovable wire fence with tarpaulin and wood bolted to it. Taking a moment to lower the gun he turned around and faced Nightwalker. Boy, had she changed due to all of this…

"And you thought it would work…because?"

"Hope? Hunch? Dumb luck? I don't know." He stated, reloading and putting the handgun away with a shrug. Maybe he wanted to see if by some marvelous design flaw would make the fence fall down when it was shot, or maybe the bullets would 'short out' the illusion before them, if it was an illusion.

Maybe he wanted to get some frustration out, who knows, though as I certainly doubt he does.

"Hmm… Seeing as we can't go that way, we'll have to catch up with Slade another way… through…" The doctor paused a moment as he scanned the area, his hand half raised in an attempt to make a decision. He then spied the entrance to a building on his side of the closed fence; the building itself seemed to continue on past said impasse and beyond, so even if all else failed the pair could get around the other side via a window or make a last stand. "…there." His lazily extended finger extended to a full point towards the double doors, illuminated only by the light shining above it. Fog lights, an appliance that lived up to its name at the moment.

"Why should we go after Slade? He left us behind!" Sine snapped, having managed to get enough of her breath back to make a coherent sentence without gasps interrupting it.

"Unfortunately I don't have much of a plan, so I think we should rejoin the group, though it will be unlikely that we can catch them up… Sorry Nightwalker, we may be on our own."

"Why don't we just go back the way we came?" Sine asked, and then realized how dumb a question that was. Westminster answered it anyway.

"We traveled through several other worlds to get here, and I'm afraid I don't see how we can get back there. Every time we shifted to a new place the door would close and disappear behind us."  
"But we're back in Jump City now…"

"But where in Jump City?" Westminster asked, looking around for a road sign. And noticed something in his search: the fog was lifting. The street lamps, flickering and on low power, but on nevertheless, had started to become clearer, more useful. The streets could actually be seen more clearly. Sine was able to even see herself more clearly… much to her dismay.

Then a droplet of rain hit Sine's exposed head, causing her to try and reach for it despite the fact that it had already disappeared into her hair. Once again Westminster paused and glanced at his surroundings. Once again, he hesitated in thought, as more rain came from the clouded heavens. There would be no sky this night, I can tell you.

Both parties started to become somewhat wet. Sine's outfit was waterproofed to a point, and Westminster's dried rather quickly, but both of them knew standing out in the rain probably wouldn't help. Especially while the preventative measure started to fail due to being stretched. They would need the curative method, and that couldn't be started until they got inside.

So they headed for it, Sine desperately holding her gloved hands above her head in a rather pathetic attempt to stop the water, though with all the mass she had now it was the equivalent of her with a cocktail umbrella in her old form.

Upon their rushing for the building, they spotted something previously obscured by the masses of fog. It would appear in their previous haste, the pair had not seen a bundle on the ground near the edge of the pavement and the door they were heading too. It was no longer than a small person, about a foot or so deep and not tall at all. By this time rather soaked, the pair slowed down.

"Could be a trap. A…canvass monster…or something. Or a mass of demonic ants. Surely they've had a film made of them, I've read the story of Leininigen."

"Noted." Westminster said, kneeling down by it, flexing his fingers before cautiously undoing the rope attached and wrapped tightly around the bundle. Sine, who had also knelt down, leaned over to get a closer look. Her armor creaked slightly in protest, and she adjusted her position, inadvertently causing her form presses up against the side of the doctor. Some would consider this an invasion of personal space, but Westminster simply put it down to the fact she wasn't used to her size yet, and hence wouldn't know where to stand, sit or kneel so as not to press against people. Not that he minded that much in any rate; women tend not to get close to you when you're a walking mass of calcified matter. The doctor hesitated before pulling back the cloth, the rain in full deluge now.

Inside there were lots of boxes, cases with handles and sleek nondescript black designs; simple labels adorned the outsides, mostly showing codes and scribbles. One particular code caught the eye of the Doctor of the Westminster clan though, on the longest and thickest box held within the confines of the bundle.

M24A2.

To a military man, that basically said "Kill time."

Opening the bundle further (and doing so made Sine realize Slade had run off with her reload case, damn it. She'd fully restocked before the Blob fight but still…) Sine reached over, grabbing a box or two before getting up and rushing towards the double doors. The rain was getting heavier; puddles had started to form at their feet. The kind of rain that soaked you even though you were only out in it for a moment or two, when it would not even be long enough to get wet in any other shower or storm. Westminster's colors darkened as the black cloth on Sine became shiny and slick. They didn't much care about that: what they did care about was that these boxes and their contents would likely be needed to save their life and they could be getting ruined at this very moment.

Westminster went back for the last few cases, bags and boxes while Sine worked on the lock on the door using a tool that Westminster had given her from his pack(He seemed to be a Swiss Army person instead of a regular army person). Taking a moment to try and figure out what the gun-like device did to actually unlock the doors to the building, she decided to throw it away and use more conventional tools of breaking and entering.

After a near record at opening the lock without the need to destroy it, Nightwalker slipped in and dumped what gear was by her feet inside, moving in and out in quick succession to save all they could manage from the downpour.

And for a moment the vigilante sighed out, regaining her last breath as she watched the rain fall: they were up to torrential downpour.

For what was happening, it was surprisingly calm. Regrets and thoughts had wanted to overwhelm her, but for once she had a deep feeling of apathy and callousness towards the world. The idea that even Slade's mind was being warped by the surroundings despite all his efforts to the contrary didn't fill her with the confidence of the ages as he had been, and arguably will be, the most dangerous foe in Jump City.

Except, maybe, the gods. Maybe.

Perhaps.

Her thoughts paused as Westminster barreled in with the last remaining few boxes, his wet form dripping from the head down. Each droplet formed its own little puddle on the hard, marble style floor. A heavy thunk sounded as Westminster dropped the cases and paused, looking around and out the door.

For a moment there was a stillness, watching the outside as more rain started to pour off the roof and pour in through the door. They both sat on the floor and watched it, like the rain was coming to wash the world clean of the sins of fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. If only this could have been the case then they could just turn around and start the day afresh.

But neither of the two stragglers had that kind of luck.

* * *

If you were surprised to hear it was NOT raining where the remaining villains were, and that they were no longer jogging along but back to a cautious walk, you haven't been paying attention.

"I want some specifics, Wilson." Brick said as he trudged along, lugging his gatling gun and weapon bundles (minus one, and that had been quite purposeful on his part). "Just what are your classifications for 'worth'."

"Anyone who is a hindrance will be left behind. No exceptions." Slade replied.

"What about Dr. Light and the Puppet King?"

"As useless as they are, they can still keep up. We can use them as shields if it comes down to it."

"Light's already had practice." Blackfire cracked. Dr. Light was about to yell a retort, when she looked at him with glowing mad eyes and he shut up.

"Because I really must question…." Brick continued.

"Dr. Vogel, this is not the Marines. We are not trained to act as a unit, and our actions as a unit are only to ensure our survival. If one of us hinders that, then they will be cut loose. No exceptions. Whatsoever."

"And if your daughter goes from silly to borderline retarded?" Brick asked. The villains all stopped at that question.

"….No exceptions." Slade said.

"WHAT! DADDY!" Rose yelled.

"So you'd best hang on to what common sense you have left now Rose, because without it you're worth less than nothing to me." Slade said. Rose gritted her teeth and stomped her feet angrily. "And if you're going to throw a temper tantrum you can just leave right now."

"I'll show you! I'll…run away!" Rose threatened.

"Go right ahead. I'll even give you a count of ten for motivation." Slade said as he cocked and aimed his gun at Rose, who gaped. "No exceptions Rose. Now get in line, or get left…"

As the giant ape swooped down out of the sky and leapt over the villains, grabbing Rose up as she shrieked, and then it was off running and swinging. It happened so suddenly and out of the blue even Slade was struck dumb for a moment.

"…and I believe that was King Kong." Brick commented.

"…AFTER HIM!" Slade roared, as he turned and charged after the ape, firing at it.

"Wasn't he all Darwin and survival and no exceptions before?" Dr. Light asked.

"That was Rose's brain melting: this is an outside force and I suspect it falls under the 'nobody steals from Montgomery Burns' umbrella. And we can't let the atmosphere separate us, AFTER HIM!" Brick yelled, and the villains followed after Slade as he fired at the fleeing monkey, Rose clutched firmly in his grip as she screamed.

Fortunately, there was no Empire State Building.

UNfortunately, there WAS the recently completed Phalle Tower, a towering skyscraper build to house headquarters of two new Jump City businesses and some of the largest ones already present in the city.

And King Kong clearly wasn't picky as he leapt and seized onto the side, climbing his way up as Slade stopped, aimed his gun up after the giant ape, and then cursed and lowered it.

"What happened? Are we giving up master?" Kurai asked as the rest of the villains arrived.

"No, shooting it now will just have it fall off while holding Rose." Slade said, as Kong ascended to the top of the Tower and perched there. Rose's screams drifted down from the building.

"What the devil is that big ape doing here anyway?" Kurai asked, craning his neck up.

"Why wouldn't…he…be…" Brick said, before wincing and holding his head.

"Problem Vogel?" Slade asked.

"Just a mild…pain…headache." Brick said.

"King Kong was a horror movie?" Kurai asked.

"DUH! It was the first monster movie!" Control Freak snapped.

"I always thought it was hilarious."

* * *

_"Oh no. It wasn't the airplanes. Twas Beauty Killed the Beast."_

_"……………HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

"Color me surprised." Control Freak said.

* * *

"Just what is the point of this Krueger? Kong's not exactly a savage beast out to destroy everything." The Lieutenant said.

"Maybe not. But he sure proved to be distracting enough for those fuckwits to run right into a potentially intense cloud of our 'atmosphere', with a special Krueger touch. It's not always about the blood, rookie! Sometimes it's for the laughs! And THEN the blood. And I have someone who will combine the two in a most DELICIOUS manner…" Freddy cackled, as he began typing once again.

* * *

Indeed, the villains had no idea where they were and what it meant. And that was about to become brutally obvious.

"All right, how are we going to get her down? Head up the stairs? Send Blackfire, if she's willing?" Brick asked.

"None of those. Too obvious." Slade said. "I know a setup when I see one. If we try and take the elevator we'll end up in a submarine, and taking the stairs will put us in a haunted castle or some such nonsense. Same with Miss Blackfire doing the obvious tact. No, I'm not going to fall for it. We'll rescue my daughter, but we'll do so by thinking outside the box."

"So what are we going to do Slade?" Sorceress asked.

"We, Miss Ithlian…are going to flap our arms and fly."

* * *

"…Why?" Sine asked, turning slightly towards the British man. No, she was not asking how in the hell could Slade think his idea would work. Even I don't have an answer and I'm writing this thing.

"Ah, return of the delayed echo. I can give you a few answers, but I would have little to no idea if you would even want to hear them." Westminster replied, taking off some of his gear so he, and his clothes, could dry faster before sitting back down for a quick break.

SOME, not all of them, you understand.

Not wanting to keep the silence going (lest it be filled by something unpleasant) Sine slipped to her feet, walked down the corridor, and, keeping her orb launcher armed and aimed at all times, managed to get into a larger area. It seemed to have a few rows of seats, coffee tables with magazines, pin boards with the latest news in particular areas and a tall desk as if it was designed for serving.

"I've been here…"

"Pardon?" Westminster asked, standing up again and wandering over.

"We're in one of the smaller hospitals situated here there and everywhere from when Jump City was much more sprawled out. Recent rebuildings have made things more compact." She said, picking up a magazine and flipping through it a bit while walking before placing it down. "The…Eternal Rest Hospital; I came here for an ingrown toenail."

Indeed, they stood in the reception of said hospital, and despite its eerie name it had a good record of care due to its great doctors. Unfortunately, it was also rather expensive and hence not many people could afford to go there; it was, however, in the olde riche part of town. People had money.  
"Well I hardly doubted it was cosmetic surgery." Westminster replied, placing his fedora upon the reception desk, making the water that dripped from it pool on the varnished surface. Sine smiled slightly, somewhat skeptical about the words uttered by her new companion at this moment in time, though it was true; Sine wouldn't consider the need for the "Plastic fantastic" that was modern cosmetic surgery. After all she had tried 'enhancements' earlier that evening, and all they did was get in the way when she turned, flipped, tried to fold her arms, ran… God they hurt when she ran.

"Well either way we are in luck."

"How do you figure?"

"Well a hospital is stocked with supplies, both medical and food. If we can't catch up with Slade we can stay here and 'last it out', if that's even possible, and considering I haven't eaten since yesterday's lunch it seems like a plan. To the kitchen!" He declared, pointing across the room to the cafeteria.

"…" Sine paused. "We'll get the weapons first, how about that? In case we get attacked by the Killer Tomatoes. Or the Killer Refrigerator. Or Night of the Living Bread…"

"Sure, probably for the best anyway." Westminster cut Sine off before she could suggest any more problems awaiting them. The pair walked towards the boxes, still at the entrance. Roughly three boxes were long enough to be guns, with several smaller boxes for ammo.

One of the biggest ones, long and deep, was what Dr Westminster walked over to. It had been the one he had first spied and wished to open. Sine didn't know her gun numbers; she preferred her gauntlets and as such had no need to know what gun did what and which gun would be best for each situation (she hadn't much cared for specifics: all the guns she'd used had been equally worthless against Lil' Slugger and put the same holes in the zombies) . Given the size of the box however, it had seemed to be something big, like a chain gun, or a rocket launcher, or a…

Westminster pulled out the gun.

"A sniper rifle?!" Sine asked incredulously.

An M24A2 Sniper Rifle to be precise.. It was a marine grade rifle, usually used in combat. As Westminster took each part out of the box, Sine realized why the case was so large; there were so many pieces that it needed some assembly. There was a scope, strap, bolt, cleaning equipment, intricate parts, two manuals and the rifle itself.

"Yeah… and?" He asked, somewhat obliviously.

"We could do with something that involves a little less precision." Sine pointed out, pulling over one of the smaller boxes. It was quite deep and tall, but only a foot and a half to two long. Upon opening it she found a gun of a strange design. It was almost triangular in its silhouette. A long front typical for an assault riffle with a cylindrical chamber over it. It was a Calico M950, a weapon as unusual in design as it was useable as a quick firing small arms weapon with a large ammo capacity. The cylindrical ammo case gave it, at least, 50 rounds of 9mm bullets. The box of ammo next to it contained two other chambers.

"Seek and ye shall find, my dear." Westminster commented as he finished the assembly of his M24, calmly loading the first of a handful of magazines. Unfortunately he only got about 5 shots per mag, but he had about six spares, one in the weapon itself.

The now-plump blonde stuck out her tongue lightly and loaded the M950: it would be useful as a first shot weapon. Richard slung his newly acquired gun over his shoulder via the strap that now held it in place before moving over to the next box in his direction.

"It's like Christmas all over again." He stated, slightly gleeful despite the situation. Sine chuckled in spite of herself and agreed heartily. Despite it all, it was good that she got landed with him rather than Jack or Control Freak; at least he had some sense and tried to be a better person, even if he was a villain. Then again, Jack and Control Freak wouldn't have come back for her to begin with.

"Would you like this one or that one?" He asked, holding up the tall silvery container.

"Er… I'll take that one." She stated, pointing towards the last dark gray gun-box. He passed it over to the young woman and started to undo the locks and clasps on the lid on his own present, lifting the lid slowly to reveal lots of foam and a cache of small round objects, each containing a safety mechanism which had a metal strip and a pin.

"Grenades! I think we may have the edge after all." Westminster called over, starting to (carefully) remove each 'pineapple' and attach it to his, still somewhat wet, jacket.

"Provided we don't blow ourselves up." Sine replied before opening her case. "And I got…" She pulled out a fine wooden stock that seemed to be attached to a shotgun. Actually, the shotgun barrel itself seemed customized, and it no longer seemed to be a broad weapon. The barrel seemed smooth at the entrance, though not surprising, as it seemed to be belled outward in a conical shape. "…A blunderbuss."

"Slade must be a fan of the classics." The doctor leaned over. It wasn't actually a blunderbuss like the kind Alice had wielded, it just happened to be a single barrel shotgun with the end of the barrel smoothed out and turned outwards so it had the power and reliability of the newer weapons but the style of the older weapons.

Sine looked around some of the boxes and located the shotgun ammo.

"Yeah, and forgetful." Sine said, as she held up the box in her gloved hands, it only contained a handful of shells rather than the 20 as you might expect in a box. Obviously it had been used, or another weapon of the same gauge had been used and Slade had yet to refill the ammo supply.

Just her luck.

Taking up some of the extras in the case, she loaded a belt from the pack with her shotgun shells. There happened to be about… 6 in total. Even though it wasn't much, it would be enough. A shotgun in the close confines of a hospital would be perfect if anything attacked them, or rather anything else attacked them. She took the belt and placed in the empty segments the spare clips that came for her gauntlets, before lifting the belt up and wrapping it around her newly expansive middle.

She tugged the two ends together, but they refused to meet. She tugged a few more times, but it continued to disagree with her. Taking it off, she looked at the belt. And hated that it would have fit her previous form.

With some room to spare.

Luckily, the belt HAD been designed as an all-purpose, one size fits all belt rather than a fashion belt that only came in a few sizes that would fit the average person and no one else. The belt she had was designed to fit six foot ten bodybuilding marines. Adjusting it enough, in her mind, to fit, she wrapped it around herself. It resisted a little, but drawing in her breath and holding it she managed to get the clips on each side of the belt together with a quiet, somewhat muffled, snap.

Breathing out a sigh and returning to her full size, she fund the belt cut uncomfortably across her, but she would have to cope. Loading and placing the blunderbuss shotgun upon her belt line she took up the M950, also loaded and ready.

Westminster was ready as well, rifle on his back, grenades on his jacket and his handgun in his palm.

"Lets get lunch."

* * *

"You know master, we'll probably have to kill everyone here once this is done, or you'll never live this down?" Kurai said, as the villains actually stood around flapping their arms…well, except Killjoy, Blackfire, Sorceress: Sorceress had refused, Blackfire was excluded, and Killjoy has just stood and waited, keeping an eye out for threats. Apparently he felt staying with the group was a better survival option and that they hadn't actually all gone insane.

"This isn't working Slade!" Jack snapped.

"I'm just doing this to keep my arms loose." Brick commented.

"…blast, I was hoping the sheer inanity and cartoon nature of the nonsense forced on us would work to our benefit. Apparently not." Slade said. "Plan B."

"What is it this time?" Blackfire asked.

"We're going to go via balloon."

* * *

Despite Sine's concerns, the pair did not encounter any homicidal foodstuffs or appliances walking into the empty cafeteria. Instead they were just confronted with the creepy atmosphere of the chairs and tables sitting as if in mid use, like people should have been there eating and they weren't. Dinners in mid 'munch', stone cold coffees and empty juice jugs. Sine almost swore she'd find a lunch tray with "Croatoa" carved into it.

The two wandered over to the kitchen. Most of the food in the serving trays had been removed or was now stale and hence rather unedible. The two slipped past the serving area and made their way to the kitchen behind, which the larder and the fridge were quite plentiful.

"Well then, what would you like?" Westminster asked, placing the pistol down on its side before opening up the fridge.

"No thanks." Sine replied, somewhat deadpan. "I'm on a diet."

Westminster sighed at this exasperated response.

"It's not your fault you are this size. Starving yourself now thinking it will help immediately isn't going to work. We both know that neither of us have eaten in a while, and besides, what will happen next time you're away from somewhere with food and start to get hungry?"

Despite her reluctance due to her size, her stomach growled in protest. The exertion of the day alongside her new mass didn't offer much in the way of energy conservation. She grudgingly nodded and sat down at one of the tables and waited.

Westminster wasn't a great chef or anything, but he was quite capable of making a decent meal and it wasn't long before they had polished off what was on their plates. West wiped his mouth lightly as he pulled down his white under mask, the surgeon's mask lost it would seem in the scuffles with the Blob. He would have to remember to buy another few dozen. If he lived through it. No, think positive, think positive.

Sine also finished, wiping her mouth with a napkin also. Her mindset had shifted, becoming more and more self-conscious to the minute. Nothing in her power could make her change what had happened. She was now larger and softer than she would ever care to be and no amount of hope, or wishing, or money would reverse this situation within the allotted time of her probable life expectancy.

"…I think I preferred it when I just had huge tits and bimbo hair." She said quietly.

"It could be worse, my dear." Westminster replied plaintively. His mind wasn't on the task at hand at the moment, but more on her plight. Let's face it, there was a difference between being larger up top (and she still was, even if it wasn't to that degree) and being huge everywhere else as well. He was surprised the costume of hers was still holding together; all the nicks and cuts in it probably allowed for some give, though the majority of it must have been tight as hell even with some of her, now rather generous, stomach exposed due to the earlier fight in the bar. She might be looking at a costume change in the future as well.

"How? How could it be worse?" She almost snapped back. It was the kind of retort in which you knew you shouldn't be angry because it's beyond your control, but you were anyway due to being human.

The doctor just looked at her as if to say: Do you really want to shout at the last person by your side?

Upon the realization of this, she pushed herself sharply to her feet and stormed off in the general direction of the kitchen. Throwing down his napkin, Westminster followed, and upon entering the food prep area, he saw that Nightwalker had decided to see if she could suffocate herself…On chocolate cake.

Wrenching her hands down from her mouth, allowing the ruined remains of the 'Death by Chocolate' cake fall to the counter and the floor in front of her, which considering she'd only just started was quite a lot, Westminster turned her towards him with a puzzled look in his manner, the mask he wore shifting lightly as if to show surprise.

"What on earth are you doing?" Westminster asked, unable to find any other words for the moment.

"Eating cake." She mumbled, finishing off the last few chews in her mouth before swallowing. "Chocolate produces a euphoric feeling because of the increased…"

"I know what it does! I do have a PhD you know, but all the same don't you see what they're trying to do to you?" He snapped; she tilted her head lightly towards him in a questioning mannerism. The flakes of chocolate on her cheek combined with her freckles and her general cute nature of her face made her look absolutely adorable, though at this point in time those had to be thoughts that he must shake out of his mind. "They're trying to make you depressed and suicidal! They couldn't paint an archetype bull's eye on you, and they couldn't get you crushed under foot, so this is their next big attempt to kill you off! If the monsters don't get you for your own mistakes, you'll hand yourself to them due to a suicidal nature given through depression."

"………..Yeah… Makes sense…" Sine replied.

She then reached for the cake again.

"No, no, no. " Westminster once again pulled her hands away from the temptation. "Bad Sine, bad. Don't make me get a rolled up newspaper now." He said, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and back to the table that was now covered in dirty plates and ordnance. He lead her back to the seat which she'd previously occupied and sat her down, making sure she would sit and not get back up to eat more cake.

He pondered on where to start on this. He wasn't much for motivational speeches; he was the follower and not the leader, so he never really knew what was happening or how to deal with it until it happened. He acted off the cuff, off the bat and dealing with it one day at a time.

"You still haven't told me why." Nightwalker said.

Echo.

"Echo." He stated simply, then paused wondering if he said that out loud for a moment. He shrugged it off, stumbling over why. It wasn't love, it wasn't some form of sexual attraction even though she looked… well you know how she describes herself most of the time; Like the type of girl boys would love to take to the barn. Hey, West was only human but even so it wasn't that and not because of her size, she still looked great. "Well…hm…"

"What? Come on! Tell!"

"Well…"

"Westminster!"

"Okay fine, you're a good person!" He blurted. "I wouldn't be a villain if I had the choice! But no, I don't have the choice so I decided to adhere to the old tradition of 'Honor amongst thieves' and come back for you! You're a good person, and a far better person than most of the people we left the bar with. Skills and abilities not counting, you have a better heart than them! You're in this because you don't know what to do with yourself, I'm here because I wish I was in your position and I want you to live so you can have your day of choice!"

Sitting on the edge of the table, he looked off to the side and folded his arms in what could only be described as a state of mock brooding. Sine paused lightly, and then smiled to herself.

"That's good enough for me." She replied minimally, a smile still on her lips. "So, you still going to stick by me? Even after all that?"

"Well I have to, someone has to stop you from doing silly things." He chuckled and put an end to his stylized sulking. "…Though you have to understand, as with your breasts, hair and shrinking you may get worse before you get better. You started off this little event at, what? 160 lbs?" He asked, translating the weight he knew into weight they could understand.

"Something like that."

"Well you now look twenty or twenty-five pounds closer to 200lbs, so if you're getting bigger we have to be careful, though of course you did just have a meal and tried to inhale a cake." He smiled as she blushed to herself. How could she have even considered such an action? It was so…against her. Then again the whole environment was trying for a repeat performance of last year. Including her death, and make it stick this time.

Not if he had any say. Westminster held out a hand to her, ushering her to take his hand so they could begin their trek to freedom.

* * *

"You know Slade, when you said by balloon, I was thinking, perhaps, you meant the larger types." Brick said, as he and other villains (minus the usual suspects) stood around blowing up party balloons.

"Indeed Dr. Vogel, the 90 percent of my brain I can use at once says this won't work. The other ten percent agrees." Slade said. "But in this situation…"

Dr. Light blew up a balloon and watched it float to the ground. He studied it for a moment, and then a spark of inspiration shone in his eye, and he produced a bigger balloon and filled it too with air.

It too floated to the ground, and Dr. Light looked at it a bit more, got the same look, and then produced a HUGE balloon. Much huffing and puffing filled it all the way…

And then an errant grip caused the air to all rush out of the balloon and back into Dr. Light, who inflated in turn and floated away.

"Reality's on a holiday." Slade finished.

"Even so, I'm certain we need some lighter then air gasses."

"If you insist…"

* * *

Meanwhile, the pair walked through the hospital, though to their surprise they found most of the doors locked. And from the previous experience with the wall outside, it would be very unlikely that they could blast their way through. If they did, more obstacles would be placed in their way, and given their limited ammo it wouldn't be long before they were stranded.

Sine poked her head around a corner and paused for a moment. Just for a moment, quietly contemplating her situation in the grand scheme of things.

"Clear." She called behind her as Westminster moved around her into the corridor. It wasn't disturbing they had been left to die, and it wasn't disturbing that they only had a limited amount of ammunition, but what _was_ disturbing was the fact that it was so… clear.

They had not seen any villains, any monsters, anything for a good while since the Blob incident.

But all the same they had to be careful: these things loved appearing out of nowhere. Sine felt she had to be _extra_ careful; she was unsure about her reflexes and ability to use her launchers or adopted sword, and she was not that skilled in firearms. It's understandable that she felt more on edge then her companion: her entire world and sense of self had been turned upside down in order to try and ensure her demise, and that had dragged her sole companion in and given him an similar target albeit without the limitations.

Damn her shoulders were starting to hurt with the extra weight and the ordinance she had to carry…

Next corner, nothing. The pair continued on and walked casually, their pace slow and steady rather than fast and military. Why move fast at this point, they had definitely lost Slade, and as such they'd decided to take things nice and slow and easy-going.

Sine reached out carefully and tried the handle on the latest door.

"Most of the doors are locked…where would the keys be kept?" She asked over her shoulder, even if she paused to really wonder if the ponderous behind was hers. For the 14th time, she reminded herself that it was.

"Someone might have the keys, or they should be in a security office given the size of the hospital. According to the last map we passed, the security office is just down the corridor from where we are now." Westminster replied. He suspected the office, as the other option meant there was actually someone else in the hospital. It wouldn't be surprising if the entire place was abandoned.

"How come there are no patients?" Westminster thought out loud.

"The helpless are no fun to kill, so in fiction they're spared. What separates films and such from reality. In true horrors… they're viable, easy targets."

She paused, and Westminster waited for a moment and slowly walked back, his gun lowered.  
"Sine?" No reply. "Sine?"

Still no reply, so he did the next best thing he KNEW would grab her attention.

Sine jumped as his gloved hand slapped her fleshy rump, a look of surprise and disbelief covering her features. The nerve, the gall to do such a thing! She spun quickly and gave him a firm slap to the face, and while not enough to really jar him it was enough to accentuate her particular feelings.

A silence hung in the air like her hand, having remained in mid air waiting for the command to come down. She realized in that moment she'd slapped the only man who had decided to stay behind with her. Bravo.

Well, he DID just place his hand on her in a way that most men wouldn't dare, a fact that most men would realize after their hands were not connected on to their wrists afterwards. Duality struck in her mind.

Westminster flexed his jaw cautiously before rubbing the side of his, now sore, cheek.

"Feel better?" He questioned.

"….Yeah, actually."

"Focused?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let us, now that we are focused, carry on."

* * *

The good news was the villains had somehow found some helium.

The bad news was Slade had somehow inhaled some.

"Welcome to the high voice crew! You can have a high voice too! If you've got a high voice, you don't have a choice, your voice is high all the timmmeee…" Slade said as his voice went back to normal with the last word.

The villains stared dumbly.

"…looks like you've gotten booted out of the crew, mate." Jack smirked.

Slade drew his handgun and shot Jack in the balls. He wore an armored cup. This prevented him from being castrated. He didn't much feel grateful for that as he fell to the ground with a scream.

"At least I have a choice about being in it, eunuch." Slade replied.

It also conveniently kept the villains from asking why Slade said that in the first place.

* * *

Sine and Westminster weren't having an easy time either: they'd made it to the security office in question, only to find it like all its brother doors: Locked.

Westminster tried again, but it was firmly locked and barred: nothing but nothing would have gotten that door open that day short of breaking it down.

The pair shrugged to one another, unsure of the total outcome of the mass amounts of nothing they had encountered, and then they decided on a course of action.

Westminster nodded towards the door, to which Sine replied with another nod of more of the vertical kind. Westminster took a step or two back then paused, to which his black clad companion made an open gesture of confusion. West indicated the door with a sweeping motion of his arms and a nod, as if to say ladies first. This was quickly counteracted with a fierce shake of the head and another bow out by Sine to insist that Westminster could go first, and the doctor promptly broke down the door.

All this had been done by instruction that had involved no words. Not bad for a pair who hadn't known of the other's existence four or so hours ago.

The doctor realigned himself and stalked his way in, making sure that there was nothing in there to interrupt them or to try and maul them with teeth, or razors, or teeth that were like razors…

The office was what you would expect from an abandoned hospital; a smallish room with a desk that took up half of it. Throughout the room were monitors, looking over all of the hospital.

"Someone didn't design this place very well. Looks like the basement's flooding. Or the bottom floor, whatever that is specifically." Nightwalker commented, looking at a few of the monitors.

Westminster only partially took what Sine was saying in, as he'd spied it: behind the desk was a box attached to the wall. West jogged around the desk as Sine leaned over it, using it to support herself and the armory she wore.

"That them?"

"Definitely." Westminster opened up the cabinet and took out several keys, each one gleaming in the dim light of the office. "Now, we want to get out of here, so what do we need?" He searched through the labels.

"Fire exit?" Sine offered.

"They don't have keys. Perhaps a master so…" Westminster's hands rummaged through the collection of the keys that lined the box, but the Master key wasn't in there. Of course the key that would allow them to open any and all doors in this hospital was missing. Westminster searched the keys that he had in reach of his gloved fingers just to be sure

And then there was a flicker of lights, the illumination of the office shutting off for a moment, just the briefest of seconds before his hand grasped at the object he sought.

When the lights flickered back on however, all but one key had gone.

Westminster's hands shot forward in surprise and felt around the back of the small security cupboard for the other keys, to see if perhaps there was a secret passageway or something, perhaps on some form of spinning axel? Or maybe the back was a portal to a hidden dimension of key thieves?

"No!"

Apparently not.

"What? What happened?" Sine asked, angling her head in order to see what was what.

"The keys, they disappeared!" West replied, a slight panic filling his voice with an unmistakable dread. Finally, after all of this, the fact the world wanted to mess with him in every way possible way finally fully sunk in. He plucked the last key from the rack and looked at it. It was a rather sturdy key but somewhat overly ornate in its appearance, with a large key fob at the end of it. "Just one left…"

"Wouldn't happen to be the morgue Key, would it?" Sine asked as she picked up a chart from the table nailed to the back of a clipboard. Westminster paused and looked at her with some surprise before turning the fob over in his hands. Indeed it said "The Morgue".

"How did you…"

"It's on the register here, apparently a pathologist logged out the master key. Knowing what little I managed to grasp from the other little trips we had, I suspect this means that this hospital is now working under the videogame rules of conduct." She said, resting a hand on her fleshy chin.

"Oh the whole A to B via C route?" He said, pocketing the key and closing the door to its previous home. "So…Ah, I get it. The Morgue key had to be the only one left because the master key, the one we want, is in the morgue. We have to go to the Morgue to get the key to somewhere else we may want to go." He paused. "Right?"

"Right." Sine smiled to him, the kind of smile that indicated anything but mirth. "And along the way we'll probably have to face a legion of horrors that desire our hideously unpleasant deaths. Except we don't get continues."

Sine spied a jacket and grabbed it up, trying to get it to fit over her frame to cover up the pale mass that sat in the rip across her middle. But not only would the jacket not fit around her, she couldn't even fit into the shoulders.

"And apparently I don't get extra outfits." She snapped, as she threw the jacket down with an angry grunt and stormed off. Westminster followed, as Sine took a brief detour into a nearby nurse's station to pull its map off the wall, and then the two continued on.

* * *

"…I think it would have started by now." Control Freak said as Slade stood with a mass of helium balloons above his head, his hand clutching their strings.

Slade said nothing, as a few balloons popped over him.

"…Vogel, perhaps you were correct in said traditional methods." Slade finally said.

"Good to have you agree Slade."

"Or maybe I'll just do it!" Jack snarled as he marched up holding some spray cans. "I'll use these spray cans as booster rockets and fly up to save your birdie! And drop her for the ball shot! SO LONG SUCKERS!" Jack yelled, and knelt down as he pressed on the tops of the cans.

And much like a certain Simpson, all he did was paint the ground and his boots. Blue, in this case.

"…I meant to do that." Jack said sheepishly.

Slade took advantage of Jack's range and saved himself a bullet by kicking him in the face instead. Oh, guess the nonsense chapter title had merit after all.

A hum sounded overhead, and Slade looked up to see Doctor Peregrine on his flying motorcycle.

"About that free ride…" He began.

"In your face! GA-HOY!" Peregrine whooped as he flew off.

"Balloon?" Brick asked.

"Balloon."

* * *

After a moment of aligning where they were on the map and where they had to go, the pair had finally come across their destination. They had to go down to the basement which was straight toward, turn left, left again, right, right, right, no left, GAH! Lost! No wait… Go back a few turns and keep going forward. Aha!

In other words, they had to get t the stairwells that led downstairs. They HAD come across a few elevators, or in England "Lifts", but none of them seemed to work. The only one that did wouldn't take them down to the Morgue level. It in fact wouldn't go anywhere. The button would work; the doors would close but then open again. Nothing happened besides that, so they gave up on that idea pretty quickly. Unfortunately, the hospital, being a hospital, was rather difficult to navigate and hence they kept circumnavigating it.

Going around, and around, and around in circles until they got tired and saw more abandoned stretchers, empty rooms, and oxygen tanks then they could care for in a lifetime…

BUT, eventually, on the map, they came across the stairwell they were looking for. On the map. As in it was supposed to be there and turned out that it…wasn't.

"This is the right place!" Westminster yelled, pointing at the map that Sine had so 'gracefully' liberated from the wall back in the nurse's station. Apparently it resented that fact.

"Then I have to assume either we took another wrong turn or that the door has been replaced by…that." Sine stated, pointing towards where they should have been heading. Instead of a double, or even a single, door, was now a complete wall with one minor exception. In that wall was a hole, of a size that a person of a slim, videogame-esque stature would have little trouble fitting through. Around its edge, scrawled in what they could only assume to be blood, was writing of a runic style, etched in to the wall. It looked like something out of a Silent Hill game. Considering they'd already been there, and Sine had gotten another taste of it in her previous chaos manifestation with the HIVE, she really didn't fancy another go-around.

They could see through to the other side of the portal; it was there more as an inconvenience rather than anything else, it seemed.. Sine groused, rolling her eyes.

"So what now?" she asked, her eyes flicking over to her medical companion, who seemed to pause and rub his chin. "Guess we turn back?"

"We can't." He replied, lowering his hand. "We have to go forward and solve this problem." He walked up to the hole and looked through it. "If we don't get the master key then we're stuck, really."

"Why bother though? I mean we'll have lost Slade and his little gang long before we find it. Why not go in the other direction?"

"If all else fails, we use the key to allow us to stay in the hospital without any problems. We have beds, food, supplies. I mean, surely those Titans aren't just sitting around watching their city go in the shitter. They must be doing SOMETHING. I mean, all of this can't last forever at the very worst case scenario." He lied; the worst case was them both dying in a rather cruel and inhuman manner, but if he wanted cooperation then he was going to have to bend the facts a little. "So, as they say, Ladies First."

Sine looked at the hole that Westminster had requested her to fit in to with a dubious air.

You have to understand, Sine not only disliked being larger, she had a very subtle dislike for larger people. When confronted by the news of the plus size heroine Morgue running, or in her mind wheezing, around the city, it didn't fill her with the greatest of confidence. Moreover, it made the bile in her own 'wonderful' stomach rise a little at the thought. A woman, larger than she was now, running around in a tight black suit and a cape instantly thinking it made her a heroine. It took something special to be a heroine (or a villainess, or someone morally gray in the strange superhuman field she walked) rather than a tight costume. It took years and years of training, training she had gone through and wasn't anywhere near DONE going through. Training she had forced herself into. People should look after their bodies, they should look after who they are and as such that includes exercising and eating 'right'. It didn't make sense to her why people would want to be like this. It was the worst kept secret in the hero community that under the mask that Morgue wore was the significant other of long suffering Jump City hero Scalpel – Sophie Eloise Mathews. Everyone "knew", no one just wished to 'find out'. If anyone comes to harm or try to threaten Sophie, Scalpel would be at their throats in record time. While she was classed as a minor player, Scalpel had earned a bit of a reputation in the community, so she has an 'umbrella'. From the several occurrences where Morgue was seen in full, not hidden by the shadow of the night and not rushing away from or in mid action, she seemed to match the basic description of Sophie. Though Morgue had a larger bust and a smaller waist, though this was put down to the costume 'shifting' weight and the use of an XXL corset.

(And in actual fact Sine was somewhat in denial: she was now as big if not a touch bigger than the plus size heroine.)

In spite of her high morals, Sine did still seem to have that human trait of being judgmental, even if it was a smaller one than most. On the whole, people wouldn't blame her; larger girls were considered somewhat or outright disgusting, being all fleshy and flabby and not like the idealistic visions of health and beauty that are thrown at us every few seconds on the television or other media.

To be honest that's what some considered being wrong with this world. What, the story? Oh yeah.

Sine reached forward and measured the hole with her hands, bringing them back to her body. It would be doubtful if she could get her shoulders through that, let alone her stomach and the voluptuous 'bookends' that made up her bust and bum. But then again, it wasn't as if she had a choice, if Westminster became wracked with pain down there alone (the hospital had produced a maddening ZERO painkillers, something Sine had chalked up to the atmosphere again) he would die, and she would have to go down there herself anyway.

"How do you plan to get me back up?" She asked, incredulously.

"There should be stairs on the other side of this gap, just clamber back up them and crawl through this hole. If not we can find another way around." He replied, holding out his hands in an expectant manner. Grudgingly, she handed over her hard earned weapons, with the exception of the orb launchers and her sword.

Sine poked her fleshy arms through the hole to start with, dropping the sword and her ammo belt onto the other side before grabbing the edge of the hole and shifting forward with a sharp thrust as if it would get her through in one motion.

Sufficed to say, it didn't.

She squirmed for a moment or two, unable to make much in the way of headway before letting out a breath; this was going to be more complex than she thought. She started pondering for a moment: what had caught her up?

Backing out of the hole she started to 'disrobe', removing armor plates and capes before she was left in nothing but a black, nondescript uniform, a gash across her encompassing middle and nicks here, there and everywhere.

She tried again. Now that the thicker breast armor had been removed from her substantially increased 'talents', she managed to squirm through…a bit further, before she got stuck.

What followed was a comedy of errors of epic proportions (literally) as Sine furiously struggled to get her cursed body through the hole and Westminster tried to help her. But the fates seemed determined to make this as difficult as possible, as she got stuck, trapped, and blocked again and again. Pooh stuck in Rabbit's hole hadn't had half the grief she went through, and she let Westminster know it, as he wondered if his thoughts that she was cute made up for the fact that she, to paraphrase something he'd heard once, 'moaned at an Olympic level.'

Finally, with one last charging push from Westminster, Sine popped out the other end of the hole and fell to the floor with a crash.

Stage one of Get The Key was well underway. Sine rubbed her lower back and let out a noise that could only be described as reluctant pain. A few more comical curses blued the air as she straightened out and stood up from having landed in such an undignified manner on the floor.

"I don't think we'll be able to get you back the same way." Westminster said, calling through the hole that surprisingly had just been the entryway for the rather large Miss Sine.

"Ya think?" She snapped, having to bend over to look back through the proportionally small gap that had once occupied her. Both were actually, though West had the added ability to kneel.

"Sorry, sorry. You know how it gets after a while." She said, sighing heavily. She could really go for a hug right about now…

Except she had no real friends as she had a bad habit of burning her bridges and being a perfectionist, as well as no boyfriend or girlfriend. All she had at this point in time was on the other side of a wall and she'd just spent the last who knows how long calling him every nasty name in the book. Why did he stay?

"Yes, I know. All we have to do is go downstairs, see what we can gather. GET the keys, turn ON the power and we'll get out of here in one piece." Westminster said. "While we're down there we'll gather ammo, a map, torch, anything…and a change of clothing, maybe there will be a maternity dress around."

Sine stuck out her tongue at him in utter disgust.

"Okay my dear, ready?" He asked, reaching a hand through. Her raspberry turned to a smirk as she took it.

"Ready!"

With that she was about to pull him through…

Before the unholy noise started to come from the walls, causing her to let go in shock, the noise followed by a creaking, moaning sound that caused both would-be villains to look about them in surprise.

As they turned to look at each other through the hole they found out why; it was collapsing. Well perhaps not collapsing as such, but certainly it was filling in the gap. A rough plaster material of some kind poured out of the top and bottom of the gap, blocking their only connection

"SINE!" Westminster shouted. He knew he couldn't get through; he'd be caught in the wall, and that was not considering he would have had to remove all the weapons, his jacket, everything before attempting to climb past.

Only one option now: in a quick motion he managed to throw her the gun that she had managed to find, the Calico M950, followed by the two ammunition magazines, the second one barely beating the plaster before it completely sealed the gap.

They were officially separated.

* * *

"This is even more fun then I thought!" Freddy cackled. "Make her fat! Mix her up with some semi decent guy! Rip them apart! And the best is yet to come! How very sweet! And now…for something completely different."

* * *

"I commend you on making the balloon so fast, Slade-sama." Kurai said, looking at the makeshift hot air balloon.

"It wasn't difficult. A little magic from the Sorceress and some contributions from some friends."

"YOU STOLE MY CLOTHES!" Blackfire snarled, now wearing a barrel.

"Send me the bill." Slade said. "You've completed your task Kurai?"

"Hai!"

"Then this should work well, provided the wind is with us…" Slade said as he produced a long lighter to light the torch.

"Should be simple with the Sorceress sir! The hard part was finding enough methane!"

"Wait, you use WHA-"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!

"….we should be dead." A black as coal Slade said, standing by the ruins of the balloon.

"Apparently someone like us. Or wishes our suffering to continue. Or both. I have given up making sense of anything occurring here." An equally blackened Kurai said.

"Screw this! I can fly! I'll fly!" Blackfire yelled, and flew.

Not realizing that if you do so while wearing a barrel, it is likely to fall off. Which it did.

"FOR THE WANT OF A CAMERA!" Control Freak lamented, while blood exploded from Kurai's nose and he passed out.

"…Plan C." Slade groused.

* * *

Westminster hadn't decided to take his failure lying down either, as he bashed at the freshly dry and very solid plaster and stone that had filled the hole in the wall, using the stock of the double barreled shotgun to try and chip away at it. On the other side Sine was doing the same, the orb launcher clicking dry as she fired several acid shots into the wallwork, shots that would usually damage tanks and heavily armored super defensive meta-humans. Last year the barrage had managed to slow down even the unstoppable Nemesis of Resident Evil fame (and wasn't she glad he hadn't made a repeat billing appearance).

To the wall, it didn't even make a mark. The acid ran down the side like it was as caustic as the rainwater outside.

Her breath slowed, anger and adrenaline subsiding to calm and rational realization. There was nothing that seemed to work on this wall, and she finally managed to understand the reasoning that had happened outside with Westminster, a 9mm handgun and the unfeasibly large wire fencing. If all else failed, it was certainly worth a try, and even now, as the banging stopped on his side of the wall, Sine only had to wonder what other options there were…

KER-WHAMMO! There was a god-awful boom on the other side of the wall, and Sine's eyes went wide as thoughts of Westminster being surrounded and having to use the grenades at close range in the hope that it would take them out with him filled her head…NO! She couldn't handle that thought! He had come back for her when all others left! It wasn't fair!

"RICHARD!" She shouted. She was a woman in genetics only, her mind was distinctly masculine and therefore she couldn't scream, she wouldn't scream. Screaming was for hopeless heroines in horror movies, not black clad vigilantes. If you screamed you would have lost all dignity. "RICHARD!"

"…Okay, that didn't work either." A voice came from the other side. Sine let out a deep breath of relief. He was fine. Just experimenting.

"It's the Rocket Launcher wooden fence rule! How cheap!" He yelled from the other side.

"The what wooden lawn chair what?"

"It means that it doesn't matter if you have a rocket launcher, you can't blast down a wooden gate." He explained, lamely. "It's from when videogames didn't have interactive backgrounds."

"Oh…" She replied. "So what should we do now?"

"You keep going, I'll try and find another way down to you…" He called, his voice muffled due to the wall. "Sine…try and remain safe."

"You too." She replied as she placed an ear to the wall. She heard him run off, his foot falls becoming less and less as the echoes dissipated. Soon there was nothing. She was once again alone.

She stepped back from the wall, somewhat shakily at first due to the added weight…the ever growing added weight: she felt as if she was carrying a watermelon in a soft bag, throwing her already disrupted balance further out the window. And she knew then why this had happened this way also. The more it altered her mass, the less she could handle any traps or dangers thrown her way. And now she didn't even have Westminster to help.

Goddamn it all, but she'd already had her pity party. Checking her gun and orb launchers, she moved on.

Sine found the stairs, descending them cautiously at first, her steps somewhat to the side rather than forward to control her speed and balance, as well as that being the way that allowed her to actually see where she was going. She had a distinct feeling that if she was ever tired of the game and what this sort of life threw at her and settled down, this is what it would be like to be pregnant; taking each step carefully sideways so as not to miss one.

She might as WELL be pregnant-no, bad thought process. She didn't want to give Freddy ideas. Move on.

Though there wasn't much in the way of options in that regard: the rumbling that had triggered the wall filling in had apparently also caused a cave in: the area above the door she'd entered the stairs by was a mass of rubble that groaned ominously. Not wanted to be buried, she had headed across the next floor she could access due to locked doors (two floors down) the other staircase...only to find the same 'earthquake' had filled the staircase on the other side of the hospital entirely with debris, or at least as far as she could see on the floor she'd tried to transfer onto it. Her only course of action was down.

From what she had learned, the keys to some of the rooms, the roof and their planned escape route all lay on one man, if he was still in the hospital. The name, according to the list, was a Dr. Column, a mortician.

Morgues were kept in basements to keep them cool.

Down we go, down we go, down we go…

* * *

"We need a volunteer for something very stupid." Slade said to the grouped villains, save Killjoy, who was cleaning his guns, and Blackfire and Control Freak, the former threatening immense bodily harm on the latter if he didn't remote-make her some new clothes.

"Ohhhhh! Ohhhhhh!" Adonis said, waving his hand.

"Someone smaller."

"Ohhhhh! Ohhhhhh!" Puppet King said, doing likewise.

"Someone not as dense, in more then one sense." Slade said, and Puppet King went back to silently sulking. "We're going to tie someone to THIS…" Slade said, producing a giant kite. "And float them up there."

"Forget it." Sorceress said.

"Not even if you paid me." Jack snapped.

"I'll do it!" Dr. Light volunteered. "I just had some experience floating, and I'm the best!"

If you were wondering what an atmosphere that induced intense, strangely patterned stupidity did to someone who was already rather stupid, well, there's your answer.

"…what, Arthur?" Slade said.

"I'll do it, because I did it just before and I'm the best!"

"LIAR! ATLAS IS THE BEST!" The golden robot boomed as he popped up.

"…didn't Kurai blow you up three chapters ago?" Control Freak said.

"I'M BACK, BECAUSE I'M THE BE-"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!

"I used both hands that time. He's gone." Kurai said.

* * *

While Sine descended into the basement, Westminster, on the other hand, had decided to go search the upper floors to if he could get at anything obtain that would make things a little easier for her. Like a tank.

He ran through the hospital, his feet having trouble gripping the marble-esque floor with wet shoes. While they had mostly dried from the walking, the smooth floor did little in sapping their remaining moisture, and hence he had a tendency to slip and slide when he skidded around a corner. It was hilarious for anyone who ever thought about including him in a remake of an old Tom and Jerry cartoon. Which was…two people it seemed.

He managed to get to a straight corridor and sprinted down it as fast as his legs would allow, and considering he was armed with a sniper rifle, a shotgun, lots of grenades, a pistol and body armor (inside of his army jacket) he was making pretty damn good time. He wasn't as trained as Slade, but that was all a moot point. Slade seemed to have recently gained the rough intellect of mashed sweet potatoes. Well smart potatoes wouldn't be mashed for Sunday roast now would they?

…Yeah……..

His speed and obvious clanking almost got him a free ticket to miss the next elevator, but the bing and sliding of the doors caught the good (or maybe not so good) doctor's attention, forcing him to try and stop. After he managed to pick himself up off the floor due to skidding and sliding related crashing, the doctor wandered back over to the elevator as it ichimed its general greetings.

_First Floor, Doors open. _

The doctor pondered for a moment, raising a hand to his chin as he rubbed it in a manner that only he had perfected. Most did it as an expression, some just held their chins but he was the MASTER at rubbing his chin and looking befuddled. It hadn't chimed out before, so maybe it was working now? Or maybe it was a trap?

He offered a shrug and went in. The doors sharply closed behind him, nearly nipping him in the sniper rifle and dinging as an afterthought

_Doors Closing. _

He looked at the buttons to the side and shook his fingers around, getting them ready to push a button. 3rd floor, 2nd floor, 1st floor (where he was), ground floor, Basement 1, Maintenance and Carpark happened to be the choices. He tried Car Park, just to see what would happen, but nothing did. The lift didn't move, it didn't chime, and it didn't even make a groan. Nothing.

He tried Basement and Maintenance, which is where Sine might be but again nothing happened. He grumbled in annoyance; looked like he'd have to find his way back down from the first floor. He went to press another button to open the lift doors…

…when the button for ground floor came alight. He hadn't pressed it. In fact he'd been careful to avoid that button.

But still, it came alive and the lift started to creak.

"Fudge."

The whole box on a string, which was the essence of an elevator, shot down a floor as if it had been dropped instead of lowered. Westminster spread his stance so he wouldn't fall over, but he couldn't help it. The abrupt stop a few moments later from the intense drop caused him to go arse over tit, as the British say, and land on his back with a thud. He groaned.

"This isn't a good selling point to be a villain." He said, trying not to concentrate on the pain that was shooting through his back from the fall, and the realization that his backup spine was well on its way to coming back to normal. That was one of the few things that he could always remember about being in pain, the spare spine. It was immensely useful. So many times had his foes tried to kill him by breaking his neck or throwing him off something, not quite grasping that he now had an identical redundancy spine. The experiment may have been a farce, but it was a successful farce…

As the doors open, and creatures moved in to claim him.

* * *

Sine took a few cautious steps down in to the bowls of the hospital, very cautious about what was going to happen. The last thing she wanted was to be caught out in such a state; she wasn't going to take any chances.

She took a few more steps continuing forward, the shards of the damaged stairs poking out at her as if the building itself was trying to grab at her. She seemed to have been descending these stairs forever; her eyes tried to squint into the oncoming darkness, wishing her helmet was working

The dark continued to encroach on her as she continued; was it her or was the corridor getting redder? Might be a trick of the light, everyone knew there was a plethora of red lights in hospital; X-ray signs, operating theatre signs, bulbs on optometrist tests, all sorts could be found. There was probably a very dim one about somewhere that lit up the walls too faintly for the false dark, dark created by people out to kill her, to really be bothered by it.

And if you believed that, she had a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.

As Sine took another step her foot kicked something, causing it to clatter down a few stairs before coming to a halt. Her eyes jerked downward to take a look: was it friend? Foe? Animal? Vegetable? Mineral?

The dark obscured most of it, but she could tell enough to know that it was a military style flash light, an inverted L shape device with the small part on it the actual bulb enclosed in a tough, ribbed green plastic. She picked it up, looked it over, and then bashed it against the palm of her hand a few times to check for damage.

Nothing seemed to damaged, as she checked for batteries. Both present and accounted for, so all in all it seemed she had found a working torch. Not as useful as her helmet but…considering she had to continue to go down these stairs…

First step: turn it on. So she did.

And the moment she did she found out why on earth the room seemed to be getting redder. It was no trick of the light; it was no fancy ass light bulbs that seemed to want to mess with her head. It was, in fact, the walls just getting REDDER.

Due to veins that seemed to cross them, marching across the surfaces as if to try and capture every bit of white. And though even as she looked at them in shock, the blood continued to flow in them, blood that didn't drip on to her, blood that never even tried to come close. It were there to try and catch her off guard, so she could see the hospital warping and corrupting around her, as if to say "I know where you are. I know YOU.".

She had seen this before. She had seen this sort of** thing** before. This poisoning of normality. Last year. Last year she'd traversed hell and now it had returned.

She had run through it on her way here.

WELCOME TO SILENT HILL, SIN.

That was what happened to be scrawled on the wall in a blood stain that may as well have been pointing at the now softer Sine. It remembered her; it knew who she was and it knew that she was going to play. The missing of the E in her name? It was playing, simple as that. Words can be a powerful thing, and it was playing with them.

"………OH FUCK OFF!" She screamed. She had no time for this. Her experiences last year had caused her to do some research on the particulars the chaos magic had manifested, in case it happened again, and she'd learned Silent Hill absolutely loved hospitals. Her heart had raced beyond ALL understanding when she wound up there the first time, the brief time before the villains had fled it. Even though she would never admit it, the fact that she had managed to escape was better than the fact she had ended up small and nearly gotten stepped on.

But it wasn't done. No brief appearance for it. And she would much rather be small than be in Silent Hill.

Welcome home…

She took off at a full sprint down the stairs. This wouldn't beat her. She knew that, as scary as the idea of Silent Hill was, most of it was illusions. The monster could be run around and the background ignored. She just had to be able to do so. She had to be mentally aware enough to do so. Astute enough. So far the staircase was just full of blood and rust, an apt description of the hell town perhaps, but it was just creepy walls. They were just walls. They spoke no horrible truths, they spoke of no sins…

But that meant THEY were just warming up, so her one thought above all others was that she would have to get out of there as soon as possible. The more she delayed, the more it would have to work with, the longer it would be able to probe her mind for things to torment her with, and so she bolted down the stairs at a speed unlike what people would expect…

Manifestations dark within a person's heart just chuckled to themselves as more of the world decayed to suit her mindscape. If it had a voice, the dark intentions would say one thing and one thing alone.

**Welcome back Sine.**

* * *

And speaking of crazy worlds…

"I can't believe they actually managed to get him up. What happened to the laws of physics?" Control Freak said.

"Says the guy with the reality altering remote." Jack commented.

"Point well taken."

"All right Arthur, once you get up there, blind Kong, and he should release Rose on the roof, and she'll be able to take care of herself once she's free and we'll pull you down." Slade said into a radio, as Brick plied the kite string and Dr. Light floated up the side of the building.

"Roger." Dr. Light replied: amazingly he didn't seem afraid of his precarious predicament. Which probably proves the stupidity theory.

"Ohhhhhh…I'm just a little black rain cloud…"

Okay, he's singing Winnie the Pooh, the theory is now confirmed.

"Hovering under the honey tree…I'm just a little black rain cloud…uh…something something, dee dee…" Dr. Light sang, really getting into it. "….something, more, about a rain cloud…Dah dah, dah dee, dah dah dip! I'm just floating around, over, the ground, wondering where I will…drip…"

Dr. Light trailed off as he realized he'd gotten too into his singing and not only had he floated up near Kong, he was now right next to Kong.

And both he and Rose were glaring at him.

"It's not THAT BAD!"

Kong showed that he indeed did think it was, as he grabbed Dr. Light and ate him.

"EVERYONE'S A CRITIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCC……!!!!!!!!!!!"

King Kong chewed a few times, and then looked disgusted and spat Dr. Light out, as he fell screaming back to the ground…and landed in a dumpster next to Slade and Brick. Despite what some would say about acceleration and all, apparently it was filled with the same kind of very soft and kinetic-absorbing garbage Nightwalker had landed in earlier.

"Nice job channeling Pooh there." Slade commented darkly.

"Apparently enough to taste like it." Brick added.

"Well, look on the bright side! At least you didn't get hit by lightning!" Control Freak said.

KRA-KOOM!

"…this…shouldn't…be physically possible." Brick groaned, blackened and holding the burned ash of what had once been a string.

* * *

As Westminster's assailant loomed over him…

Well, I said claim him, but it more just fell over. And didn't get up. Someone had propped the corpse of one of the previous doctors against the doors, and the body had decided to pay Westminster a visit that his lungs, and nearly his bowels, would never forget.

"…..arseholes." Westminster muttered to no one in particular. Returning to his feet, he managed to get himself presentable and took a look at the floor before him. Unlike the previous one above it, it was not a welcoming sight. The above floor had been simple, just a little dusty and misty, as if someone had walked into a recently abandoned ghost town.

This floor looked like it had been the site of a no holds barred royal rumble between thirty men fighting over the title of "Big Dave". The walls had stripped and cracked plaster, the floor had dents and marks, and bare wires hung from the walls as lights flickered on and off in that way only a light can when it's next to the brink. There were shadows just about everywhere he looked, and he didn't like his chances that all of them happened to be empty.

And so, as he walked, he cocked the shotgun open, loading the two vertical barrels one at a time with caution before snapping it shut. The dog may be man's best friend, but the shotgun was the mate you called when you had some trouble and wanted someone big to sort it, and Westminster was intimately familiar with the shotgun; it was the only gun that was legal to get in England at any time, let alone for fun. Everything else was for military, armed response, Anti Terrorist Operations or just plain ol' illegally bought/made and he…

Might just need it, as there was a scuffling sound behind him, as if someone had dragged their foot along a surface, making sure to use the side of their foot for maximum effect and noise.

He turned sharply, before looking around him from side to side. How did he miss it? How did he allow himself to be caught in the middle of a room with no exit plan? How could he let himself be surrounded? And by what?

"Westttttttttttttttt…" The creatures hissed.

It seemed that in life the advancing figures were nurses, though it was unsure if the things had ever had any form of life whatsoever. Their bodies were limp and shambling in their movement, and their form was plumped and full figured, unlike the zombies he had shot down in the precinct, and unlike Sine, whom had been too full (he didn't mind that but this was not a good point to be thinking of it). A distinct cleavage sat in the V of their nurse like mini-dress. One would almost find it alluring, if it wasn't for the grotesque bulbous melted faces the creatures had, their features nondescript as if they had been sucked away by a flesh eating parasite or a giant squid's tentacles.

"Wessttttttttttttt…" The bubble headed nurses dragged steel pipes forward, along with rusted and serrated scalpels that would be more at home on a 1900's operating table than a 2000 era tool. Some just carried a simple revolver, black with rust and blood.

Despite the decaying state of the weapons, there was murder in the air.

His fingers coiled around the upper barrel's trigger as one went to take a swing.

Her bloated head exploded as Westminster blew it off, but another was already stabbing at him. He whirled and kicked her in the back, knocking her into one of her companions. But another was already aiming their rotting gun at him, drawing a bead…

Westminster blew off their hand and a good chunk of their side…and then stumbled as a pipe thudded into his back. It hurt, but he had a lot more protection there then the average person, as he turned around in mid-step, breaking his shotgun open as he walked backwards, as he quickly slotted two new shells in (down to four now the two in the gun).

He snapped it shut as another nurse swung at him: he blocked and yanked her aside, sending her into the battered wall. The remaining hand of the creature he'd previously knocked down grabbed at his ankle, but Westminster yanked his foot away, and even as he did he aimed at the nurse on the wall and fired. Her head exploded as well, and Westminster went for a hat trick as he raised his foot, altering the bone density within it, and then stomped it down on the fallen nurse, splattering her head as well.

As the nurse he really should have been paying attention to shot him in the chest.

Westminster was hurled backwards, slamming against the wall: his armor both military and bone took the hit but it rendered him vulnerable, as the monsters closed in.

He fired into their ranks, briefly scattering them, but that used up his second shell: his handgun was against his back, he couldn't waste time fumbling, as he snapped the shotgun open and yanked out the two shells, frantically trying to insert them…

The nurse lunged, its scalpel heading for his eye.

As Westminster blew it away at point blank range at the last half second.

Too little, too late, as its body's momentum kept it going forward instead of flying backwards, as it collapsed…right on top of the shotgun, knocking it down before Westminster could use his last shot.

And once again, the creatures came, as they swarmed on him. And as Westminster screamed, it was very clear _they _planned to stake a claim.

* * *

Downstairs, Sine traversed the gantry with all the grace as one might expect of any person who is trying not to make any noise at all. Her footfalls were gentled by the training she had received, their heavy weightiness that was in her run beforehand not coming in to play with the "Heel roll to toe" method of walking. The quiet allowed each and every moment she spent walking across the metallic grating to occupy her thoughts with other topics.

The hall she was in was where the morgue was, or rather should have been. She was currently in a room filled with gratings with large square holes cut in the middle. Each one seemed to leave flakes of rust on her boots and cause more to fall to the black abyss below. The walls were wooden panels with blood seeping from the joints and nail holes as if each one was personally used in the crucifixion of some poor bastard some two thousand years ago.

No, not him. Jesus wasn't the only one who was nailed to a cross until he died. It was a popular pastime for Romans.

Sine continued to step through the nightmare, her own nightmare. She was being taunted and tormented at most every step. Walls showing murals of her being slaughtered and cooked as the fat cow she was, as if she was some sort of sacrifice. Murals depicting the most debase and craven of human nature. Pictures of her running away, from who she was born to be, who she was groomed to be in her life. Nothing was really what it seemed for her. The only people she seemed to be around who wanted to be around her were morally bankrupt people or people who wanted somewhere to keep their hands warm for a night while commenting on how cute her freckles were…

….the morgue. She was here.

And as she reached the end of the corridor, something changed about her, her mind no longer focused on all the terrible sights around her, but upon the doctor that stood before her, or rather was laying before her. There was a table, slightly tilted up to allow the blood to run out of it and onto the gratings below, through them and into whatever was down beyond that.

She winced at the mess. Of course this was a morgue, so they also did exploratories here, and one of them happened to be the doctor.

Then her eyes widened as the REAL bad thing became apparent. The worrying thing of his insides were outside was much less of a concern as he actually GOT UP.

Sine recoiled away: how the hell was he still alive?!

Eyes glanced around the room as it tried to speak, the mouth making only a faint murmuring sound in the hopes that it's gargling mess was understood. The viscera slopped out of the walking corpse, blood pooling at its feet…

And for a brief moment, Sine saw a flash of light within the mess. The key. The key was in the doctor.

And he was coming for her, groaning in dark agony, as the whispers sounded around her, whispers that promised atrocity and torment, indignity and agony, the greatest debasement one could conceive of, all for her…

Sine watched the doctor approach.

And then her eyes narrowed.

"If you're going to build it up so far with so much Borsh gobbledegook, make sure the end result of all this threatening is bigger then a SLOW MOVING ZOMBIE." Sine snarled, and raised her gun and fired off a quick burst that blew the doctor's head up in a fountaining spray of gore. He hit the ground and did not get back up.

"Game over." Sine snapped. Then she blinked and glanced around to make sure a creepy doll hadn't popped up. Finding none, she headed over to the body.

The atmosphere had pushed too hard. One could only hold a state of dread and fear for so long before the flight transmogrified into fight, and Sine was through being pushed around.

The body lay on the ground before her.

She drew the Lightscourge and chopped its arms off, and then pinned the body to the floor through the chest.

"Don't fence me in." Nightwalker said, as she stuck her hand into the mess of the doctor's chest and pulled the key free. Tucking it into her ammo belt, she yanked her sword free and sheathed it.

She stood for a moment, gathering herself. She could do this. If the place threw more zombies at her, she'd shoot them or dismember them. She wasn't some lost girl seeking penance, she was HERSELF, and she could take care of it.

And the place new, as Sine sensed movement and turned to find that somehow, without arms or most of a head, the doctor had gotten back up and started stumbling towards her again. Her eyes narrowed.

"All right Black Knight, I'll show you a flesh…"

And then the floor exploded behind the zombie, and Sine screamed and stumbled backwards, her flashlight flying from her hand and shattering against a wall as the massive surging mass burst forth from below. With a second it had seized the doctor zombie and pulled it from the ground, dragging it into its maw as Sine stared at it with wide eyes.

The body was swallowed within two seconds, and the thing…the mouth turned to her, a massive worm-like form that ended in a series of crushing pincer-esque mandibles that folded outward as a secondary set of crushing teeth opened up and shrieked at Sine.

"Oh shit was this in the game?"

The worm-like creature dove at her, moving at insane speed.

Sine was faster, as she brought her gun up and opened fire, as the creature recoiled, thrashing at the bullets tore through its head and body, as Sine stumbled and got to her feet, and as the creature agonized she ran for it, slamming the door behind her.

"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!" Sine yelled as she slung the gun around her and went to her belt: she needed heavy firepower and she needed it now as she pulled the clips currently in her orb launcher out and dropped them as she tried to slam in new ones, all trying to deal with her new mass…

The door exploded off its hinges as the mandible-worm tore through it…with another one along side it, the two sliding up the corridor at insane speed as they lunged at Sine.

As she whirled and sprayed her gun, the creatures again stopped by the bullets as they agonized, as Sine lowered her gun and aimed her orb launcher, launching an explosive orb into their midst and blowing them apart, as Sine started running backwards…

As more worms tore past the still thrashing remains of the first two and snapped at Sine, and she screamed again and once more opened fire, spraying them with bullets as she ran…

And tripped.

And crashed through the floor, falling through the grating with a wail as she disappeared.

* * *

"Why don't we just use an airplane?" Blackfire suggested, once again dressed to a few male's disappointment.

"Does anyone here know how to fly a plane? Or how to make one?" Slade asked.

"Control Freak could use his remote."

"Whoa whoa whoa! I can't just zap up an F-15 here!"

"Then what CAN you make?" Slade asked.

"Well…"

Meanwhile…

"SCREWWWWWWARR!" Godzilla bellowed as he walked over to the giant building where Kong sat on top off. How the other villains kept from seeing or hearing the gigantic radioactive monster…well, they were REALLY absorbed in their conversation about airplanes, okay?

What did Godzilla say again? I'll translate.

""SCREWWWWWWARR!" (Hey bud, how's it hanging?)

"Ohh ohh OOOK!" Kong replied. (Pretty good. Though those are some real dipshits down there.)

"RAUUUUUGGGGGGHHH!" (I swear, it's like the people WANT us to kill them!)

"Okkk grr ookk groah!" (I don't like to kill people, just climb buildings.)

"SCRRRRRAAAAAAUGGGGGHHH!" (You've changed, you sellout! That movie you did with Peter Jackson SUCKED!)

"Grooh ookk okkk!" (Well at least MY remake made back all of its money, unlike SOME bombs I could mention!)

"FRAAAAAUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" (YOU PROMISED YOU'D NEVER BRING UP THE HOLLYWOOD GODZILLA MOVIE!)

"Hey, I liked it." Rose said. Yes, she could apparently speak Kaiju. I'm as surprised as you.

"Okk ohh graugh uggh oak!" (And you promised you'd stop drinking. I can smell it from here.)

Godzilla belched a huge flame."RAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" (Am not.)

"Grunt grokk ohhh ook ook grokh." (Look, I'm busy climbing and holding a hot chick in my hand. Can we talk later?)

"SREKRRRRRRRRAAUGHHHHHHH!" (Sure man. We cool?)

"Okk okkk." (We cool. You remember my cell number, right?")

"SCRAAAAAUGGHH!" (Naw, I'll just scream the next time I wanna talk to you. Sure, it'll deafen people for a hundred miles, but eh, stupid apes have it coming.)

And down on the ground…

"No worries Kurai. This helicopter was designed by Leonardo Da Vinci himself." Slade said, as Kurai started going down the ramp in the device that Control Freak had made with his power, along with the ramp.

"…wait, didn't Da Vinci live before engineering designs had be TESSSSSST-EEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD!"

CRASH!

"SKREARUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" (History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of men…)

"Grunt ook." (True dat.)

* * *

The room was dark, the remaining lights not providing much illumination, what remained flickering over the deep pool of water that had settled over the floor. The rainstorm had leaked into this, the bottom floor of Eternal Rest, covering it in dark liquid…

That Sine lunged up from underneath, spitting water out as she gasped, having plunged through the roof and landing in the water moments before. She blinked and then recoiled, throwing her arms around, looking for threats. God she wished she had her helmet. She'd give anything…

Her gun. Her gun! She threw herself down and pawed for it frantically underwater, locating it after several agonizing seconds and pulling it up. How much ammo did she have left? Who knew, probably not enough, as she snapped off the box magazine and fumbled to detach and…

And it came from the water, the mandibled head ripping out from beneath and lunging at Sine.

Sine blew it apart with an explosion orb and then with another desperate cry ripped the mag from her belt and snapped it in, as she brought the gun up and aimed.

Another worm head erupted from the water, and she tore into it with a gun blast, ripping its head apart as it fell back into the water. Another surged up, and she blew its head off with one quick sweeping burst. Sensing movement, she yanked the gun down and fired into the water around her in a circle. It was amazing she didn't blow her own foot off.

It was quiet then, as she jerked her gun around, breathing from effort and fear. Too quiet. She had to get out of…

Three heads tore from the water and surged at her, so fast, so deadly…

Sine shot two explosive orbs into them, blowing them apart, and then she turned and started running, as slow and ponderous as it was from the water and her added weight. Another erupted from her left, and she fired a spray of bullets into it, the riddled creature disappearing back into the water with a wail, and then another, as Sine aimed and blew it to messy pieces. She was almost out of orbs, how could she take the time to reload and…these things were coming out of the water, why wasn't she dead already, they could just grab her and yank her…

Down…

A deep rumbling shook through Sine's body.

Something was coming.

Now, as the floor suddenly exploded upward and Sine went flying with another cry, as the whole bottom floor of the hospital ripped up and then collapsed into itself, a deep guttural roar filling the air as the massive mottled pink-gray creature surged up from beneath, the water pouring into the hole as the massive head and body emerged, rising up on a thrashing and writhing mass of tentacles…

And as Sine looked from where she lay in the water, she realized she wasn't being confronted by killer giant worms. She was being attacked by ARMS.

As the monster shifted itself and its head came fully into view, a grotesque giant mass with a massive maw of terrible teeth and blank gray-black eyes the size of beachballs, as Sine pulled herself to her feet: the water was lowering and she had to go NOW…

As an arm tore at her, and she blew it away, but that just drew the attention of another, as she frantically fired at it as she tried to retreat…

As the third arm came in from the side and struck, knocking Sine back down with a cry, as the Lord's sword flew out of its sheath and clattered into the water, and before Sine could blink she found the spiny, crushing arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to the side and causing her gun to fall away from her as she was raised up, screaming as the mouth on the arm snapped on her head. But it didn't get to eat her, no, the main head did, as it pulled her up as she screamed and thrashed, but she was held tight…

_**And this is where Dr. Westminster comes to her rescue, right? WRONG! So hold out hope, vore fans!**_

(Why don't you tell the readers what it IS, if you're going to interrupt the action)

_**Fine. This is the monster from a film called 'Deep Rising', and according to film exposition it's supposed to be an obscure member of the 'Archaea Ottoia family', the Ottoia family being a breed of deep sea worms, mutated to gigantic size by living at incredible depth, but the character giving this exposition had just seen the worm-arms, which are attached to the main creature, which seems to be some kind of mutated octopus…I'm sorry this is just TERRIBLE. This is worse then the usual Hollywood science! Why would a deep sea creature have traditional eyes? Why would it be able to ROAR? Why did coming up the surface not kill it? Why does it need a separate head mouth if…forget it! This is more jarring then the constant switches between ridiculous and serious in this chapter!**_

(Knew you weren't going to be able to resist lampshading that...)

Sine continued to scream as she was drawn in, the monster turning its hideous head towards her as it bellowed once more, the horrendous roar rattling through her body as she kept thrashing…

As beneath the water, a certain blade began to vibrate.

Sine tried to reach her belt and trigger one of her explosive charges: better to take this thing with her then be gobbled up, but she was held too tight, and it was about to…

And then from the water the Lightscourge flew up, impaling itself to the hilt in the creature's arm and causing the monster to bellow again, as the grip of the tentacle loosened, just somewhat, and Sine, unable to take time to goggle at this completely unexpected event, yanked her right arm free and aimed it at the creature's head, as its gigantic eye filled with misty black liquid glared back at her.

"What are YOU looking at?" She snarled, and fired, her last explosive orb piercing deep into the eye before it exploded.

The creature shrieked, and Sine found herself falling as its grip was lost entirely, the vigilante grabbing her sword and letting her weight pull it free as she fell, as she bounced off the bottom of the creature's body and rolled away, sprawling roughly on the ground instead of a graceful landing, but she was free.

And she planned to stay that way, as another mouth came for her and she slashed out, slicing its head in half and sending it recoiling away as she ran for it, snatching up her gun as she made for the nearest door. Which was unfortunately a bit around the creature, but an exit was an exit, as Nightwalker ran for her life.

Another arm lashed out at her, but the creature was still in clear pain and it missed, burying itself in the wall by the elevator Sine had just run by, as she sprinted for her exit, her weight temporarily forgotten as she ran for it, making it to the hallway and sprinting down its watery length.

"If I'd known you did that before, I would have been nicer." Nightwalker said as she sheathed the Lightscourge and whirled around.

An arm flew down the hallway at her: she used the last of her bullets to blow it away and then took off down the hallway again, snatching one of her personal explosives off her belt and pinning it to the wall as she ran. More arms ran after her…and were blown away as the proximity alarm of the personal charge blew, nearly knocking Nightwalker down as she rounded the corner.

She worked as fast as she could on the run, as she snapped in new clips and then furiously tried to put her last ammo mag into her gun…

Another arm tore around the corner, and Sine blew it away with another explosive orb (she couldn't have many of those left, had to ration…) as she finished snapping the last ammo magazine in and ran, huffing and puffing but refusing to slow down.

An arm ripped through the wall in front of her: Sine fed it some bullets and ducked under its thrashing as she ran past and around another corner…

Stairs. The same stairs she'd used to reach the morgue above her before she'd fallen into this belly of the beast, as she ran for it, pulling out the key in the process.

She got it into the lock in one try, and as she opened the door another mass of arms ripped down the hallway. Sine reached out and fired her gun, not even questioning how she could fire it one handed without problem, as she shifted her form into the door and then put another explosion orb into the mass to give it something to grow on, before she ran for the stairs.

Her legs were beginning to ache, and her lungs whooshed as it tried to gain enough air: she still had her conditioning but not a body type it was used to, as she ran up the stairs…

The arm came smashing out of the wall, Sine nearly falling back down the stairs as it barely missed her, as she fed it another blast of ammo and then grabbed the Lightscourge and slashed it out, cutting its head off. The mouth fell down into the lower floors, as Sine saw more movement above her and decided another way was best, as she ran up what was left of the stairs and crashed through the door.

And crashed into it.

"SINE! YOW!" Dr. Westminster yelped as the charging girl nearly knocked him over. "You're alive! Thank god! I just had…"

"RUN WEST!" Sine yelled as she grabbed him and pulled him along for a bit before letting go to focus on her own sprint.

"Run? What are there zom…"

The door exploded off its hinges as more arms tore through from the stairs.

"HOLY SHIT THOSE AREN'T ZOMBIES!" Dr. Westminster yelped as he broke into a full sprint after Sine.

"TELL ME ABOUT IT! RUN!!!!!!!" Sine yelled redundantly, as the arms tore after them, their mandible mouths snapping at their rears.

* * *

"All right, after much thought, I have finally found another plan. With Control Freak and Sorceress' 'help', we have turned the ramp into this." Slade said, pointing to a catapult. "We are going to pick someone as a projectile and launch them up there. I volunteer Brick."

"Though I understand why, as I'm most likely to survive a miss, I still must protest. The odds of this working are quite small." Brick said.

"I liked you better when you were dumb." Slade commented.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?" Brick complained.

When all was said and done, Brick was placed on the flat launcher panel, as Slade got the trigger cord ready and stood in front of the catapault, as the villains gathered around to watch.

"All right Brick, get ready to launch, and…LAUNCH!" Slade yelled, pulling the string.

And launch Brick did…unfortunately he had been improperly placed on the flat hand, and instead of hurling him the momentum of the arm kept him pressed against the hand, as the arm snapped over and slammed Brick into the ground right on top of Slade.

"………….nobody…says……ANYTHING." Slade snarled from beneath the giant.

* * *

"How many of these damn things ARE THERE!" Dr. Westminster yelled as he crashed through a door, Sine following, as the arms continued their furious pursuit. In straightaway the arms moved too quickly, but Westminster and Sine had managed to slow them down a bit by twisting and turning. But they just kept coming…

"STAIRS!" Dr. Westminster yelled as they exited into the same hallway they'd fled down a moment before: an empty, worm free door gave him confidence that no surprises currently lurked in there (otherwise they would have just run into worm body when they came back into the hallway). Sine dashed past him, trusting him entirely, somehow still going despite her mass, and he followed…

Spying the tank of oxygen as he ran past it…

The arms surged around the corner, charging after the pair, as Westminster drew his handgun and whirled around.

"You better be full!" Westminster snarled as he shot at the tank.

It was.

Too full, as Westminster was almost blown up himself, as he was hurled backwards into Sine and both crashed through the stairway door.

"…next time warn me." She grumbled.

"Will do. Up the stairs! We've got it briefly clear…!" Westminster yelled as the two resumed sprinting up the stairs…

As the mouths tore down from the stairway above…

"NOT CLEAR ENOUGH!" Sine yelled, as she grabbed Dr. Westminster even as she stabbed out with a key and unlocked the door they'd nearly run by, yanking it open and shoving West through it. She followed, and the chase was on again.

* * *

"All right, second attempt is ready, prepare yourself Vogel." Slade said, now standing behind the catapult.

"I'm ready."

"Very well then, and …LAUNCH!" Slade yelled, and pulled the cord again.

And the arm snapped up…and Brick this time has been placed too high on it, and so his center of gravity caused him to instead be flipped over the hand's edge and land with a thud on Slade again.

"…………..I…….am……….NOT……….AMUSED."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Dr. Westminster yelled as Sine pulled him along, the latest mouths lying in ruins behind them after some handgun and machinegun fire (West had the other two guns strapped to his back and had no time to pull them out, and he only had one shell left in his shotgun anyway…), but she knew more would be along within seconds.

"Hopefully not into a dead end!" Sine rasped, her body's exhaustion barely being outpaced by her adrenaline. Goddamn fat curse, goddamn worm things, goddamn horror stories, WHY COULDN'T THE AUTHOR HAVE JUST LEFT THIS AS DEADFIC?

CRASH! The fourth wall came tumbling down onto another worm, stopping it dead, as the pair paused and blinked.

"Wanna question it?" Westminster asked.

"No." Sine replied, and resumed running, as she ran around the next corner and found what she was looking for: the opposite stairway. When she'd tried to use it before, it had been blocked with debris, but maybe, just maybe…

"COVER ME! AND MAKE SURE WE HAVE AN EXIT!" Sine yelled as she tossed Westminster her M950 and pulled out the key to open the door. Westminster turned around…as another mass of worm-arms came tearing around in the usual bat out of hell style.

Westminster opened fire, but there were so many and not enough bullets, as the arms advanced up the corridor…

And squealed as they burst into flame.

"Napalm, burn's not as good as boom but c'mon!" Sine yelled as she dragged Westminster through the door. She'd been right. The debris stopped on the floor below them: they had a clear route. Which was good, as the other stairway would have been blocked anyway if they'd kept going up…

"FUUUUCCKKKKKKK!" Sine screamed as the worms ripped through the stairway above them and surged down, and once again she and West managed to only make it up a floor before they had to flee onto it.

"Quick, back to the other one!" Westminster gasped as they ran.

"No other one! Blocked!" Sine replied.

"What? Then what do we do?"

"We…" Sine yelled as she turned and blew apart another worm with an explosive orb…and stopped as she realized it. There were two stairways, but one was blocked by debris by now and the other was surely blocked by worms.

They were trapped.

* * *

"Third time is the charm. Ready Brick?" Slade said, now standing to the right of the catapult.

"As ever."

"And…LAUNCH!"

And this time, Brick did fly through the air.

But the positioning was wrong again, and instead Brick was just thrown up into the air instead of out…and slightly to the right.

And what goes up, must come down.

On Slade.

"Mental note: find a city no one likes. Shoot everyone in it to relieve stress." Slade snarled.

* * *

"How much ammo you have left?" Nightwalker asked as she used a lull to reload.

"Not much! Why?"

"We're stuck! Both stairways are cut…."

Three arms ripped through entrances and the walls around them, and the three of them blew them away with gun and orb fire.

"And I don't think we can outlast this." Sine said.

And then…a chime sounded, and a nearby elevator opened.

"………………no. Can't be." Sine said, as she ran over. Without bothering to check it, she ran in and hammered on the upper floor buttons.

But nothing happened. The door didn't even close, as Sine shrieked in frustration.

"YOU FUCKS! DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO TAUNT US…!" Nightwalker screamed.

More worms tore down the hallway at them. Sine blew one apart with one of her rapidly depleting explosive orbs, and Westminster manage to down the other with a quick spray of handgun and machinegun fire. He popped a new clip into the handgun afterward.

Another arm. Sine switched to her normal orbs and joined with Westminster to take it apart.

"You want me to save the last few bullets for us?" He said grimly.

"No I'd prefer if you use it on the next fucking thing that tries to eat us!" Nightwalker said, and blew apart another attacking arm. "If you have to, use your grenades and blow us…up…" Nightwalker trailed off.

As she saw the oxygen tanks nearby.

And the elevator that didn't work but had worked enough to come up there to taunt them.

And the word 'up'.

"West, you're a genius and I'll kiss you afterward. Quick, cover me while I get these into the elevator!" Nightwalker said, as she ran and grabbed an oxygen tank, dragging it behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"There is no spoon." Nightwalker grinned, as she dragged the canister in, stood up, and drew the Lightscourge, as she slashed the sword above her and ripped into the elevator roof. "Thank you loads of cutting charms."

* * *

"All right Brick, THIS time for sure." Slade said, once again standing behind the catapult, but not so close Brick could fall on him, and if he were tossed the wrong way again Slade would have time to move.

"If you say so Slade."

"And…LAUNCH!"

Slade yanked the cord.

And Brick remained in the same place, as instead the entire CATAPULT moved instead, the momentum of the arm caused the entire construct to flip over backwards and smash down on top of Slade.

"WHEN THIS IS OVER I AM GOING TO MURDER CHUCK JONES' ENTIRE REMAINING FAMILY!"

* * *

"I'M ON MY LAST ROUNDS HERE!" Westminster yelled as Sine dragged a fifth oxygen tank into the elevator and placed it against the others.

"Shit. Here!" Nightwalker yelled as she came out of the elevator, yanking off her gauntlets and snapping them together before making a quick twist and adjustment. "Got about four shots left of explosive ammo, use them well!" Sine said as she handed the makeshift gun to Westminster, as she went over and grabbed another oxygen tank, dragging it in.

"Where's the trigger-SHIT!" Westminster yelled as another arm ripped through the floor at his feet. A few handgun shots chased it back, and as another tore around the corner West found said trigger on the orb gun and blew it to pieces.

"We're good! West! Your grenades!" Nightwalker yelled.

"What?"

"COME IN HERE!" Nightwalker yelled, as she yanked him in and grabbed at his chest, pulling the explosives free.

"What are you doing?"

"Cutting off the head of the snake." Nightwalker said as she put all the grenades on the oxygen tanks, and Westminster used up the last of the M950 ammo to blow away two more arms…as five replaced them. Explosions ripped through the hallways as he blew them away, using two more explosion orbs.

Sine was finishing dumping every single clip of ammo she had that could start or aid an explosion and slapped her remaining remote device on top of it all.

"Okay Westminster! Climb in! HURRY!" Sine yelled as she yanked the Lightscourge out and ran around the doctor to slash at an attacking arm, the enchanted sword providing a defense no normal sword could, as Westminster looked up to the sliced open elevator roof and realized what she was planning. A quick jump off the oxygen tanks and a pull up, and he was standing on what was left of the roof.

"Now you! Hurry Sine!" Westminster called, as he tossed her orb gun back down. Sine grabbed it and blew up two more arms before sticking it in her belt and trying to scramble up the oxygen tanks…

And the fact she was fat came roaring back with a vengeance: after all her successful running and effort she found she could barely pull herself up, nearly falling off the oxygen tanks with a cry.

"SINE! COME ON!" Westminster yelled as he leaned down and extended an arm. Sine grabbed it, and Westminster strained as he tried to pull her mass up…

As an arm torn through the door, and Sine screamed as she found the deadly mandibled mouth snapping at her legs, as she shrieked and kicked, unable to get at her sword, feeling herself losing her grip as the arm tried to seize one itself and drag it into itself…

"NO!"

And a blade of bone erupted down into the elevator and impaled through the arm, pinning it to the ground as it shrieked in agony.

"AHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!" Westminster shrieked in turn, feeling like he'd ripped his whole arm OFF doing that so fast, but even as he screamed he yanked with all his strength, pulling Sine up through the bigger hole and onto the roof, as it groaned from the strain…

"Come on soldier on your feet!" Nightwalker said as she pulled Westminster up, as the arm ripped itself free and retreated instead of resuming its attack. "Grab the cable! And hold on, we're going for a ride!"

"I'd rather be on a Ferris wheel." Westminster replied in a somewhat dazed manner. Sine slapped him.

"GRAB THE CABLE!" Nightwalker yelled, as she did so herself and pulled a small electronic device from her belt and attached it to her chest. "You wanna eat something? Chew on this."

And Nightwalker slashed at the cable's base, and the enchanted sword cut right through, yanking Westminster and Nightwalker skyward and up.

They didn't go far: the hospital only had four aboveground floors, as they came to an abrupt stop.

"GET THE DOOR OPEN!" Nightwalker yelled as she stabbed out with the Lightscourge and tried to pry the doors apart…

As the elevator tore down towards the bottom basement…

And the creature bellowed in its depths…

And the elevator hit ground floor, as the proximity sensor Sine had clutched to her chest activated.

And a gigantic explosion blew outward through the elevator door and wall as a massive wave of destructive, purifying flame surged out and consumed the monster, blowing it to hell and gone as the explosion consumed the entire bottom floor, even as the fire blasted upward through the elevator shaft and blew out every single door as it pursued Sine and West as viciously as the worms had…

As the two leapt through the open door as the shockwave blew them out into the room beyond, as they crashed and rolled across the floor, both coming to a stop as the fire died back down.

For a few moments, they lay there.

"…by the way." Westminster finally said. "I got you some new clothes."

* * *

"And get ready to launch." Slade said, now standing with the other villains and holding Control Freak at gunpoint to pull the cord.

"You sure…" Control Freak asked.

"LAUNCH HIM!"

"YIKES!" Control Freak yelped as he pulled the cord and then cowered.

As Brick was sent flying up and through the air, in a picture-perfect arc.

"………you'd better hope that if someone was involved in my not so successful attempt's failures, I never find out." Slade said, as he glared balefully at the villains.

"He made it master!" Kurai said, and Slade looked back up to see that Brick had indeed landed on the roof.

"Let's get closer. Just in case." Slade said, as the villains approached the base of the building.

Brick, on the other hand, found the giant ape glaring at him on the skyscraper roof.

"I don't blame you, I'd probably be glaring at me too. But do we have to fight? I'm not strong enough to really do much and you'd risk dropping your guest. Maybe there's another way we can work out our differences. It would show just how much you're like us, which was the whole point of your movie…" Brick intoned, as Kong stared at him in dull confusion.

* * *

AN IN-DETERMINED BUT SEEMINGLY EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG AMOUNT OF TIME LATER.

"What is he DOING up there?" Jack complained.

"Too much, and not enough." Slade replied.

"Anyone hear a low thumping?" Control Freak commented.

* * *

"…the manners of a host." Brick said. "Now, other interactions require a different kind of charm…"

"Kill me. Just drop me off the building. Anything but more of this. ANYTHING….!" Rose whined. Kong barely looked at her, his eyes blinking sleepily.

* * *

"Does anyone have the time?" Dr. Light asked.

"Uh yeah, it's…the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man." Control Freak said.

"It's WHAT time?"

"No, it's the STAY-PUFT MARSHMALLOW MAN!" Control Freak yelled, and pointed.

As the white giant of sugar and rage rounded the corner. Control Freak had indeed heard a low thumping of impact tremors, and it hadn't been a T-Rex.

"….my complaints are many. But no time for that. How do we kill it?" Slade asked as the giant made its way towards them.

"Uh, we cross the streams!"

"What streams?"

"…oh right, we don't have any streams to cross." Control Freak said.

"Then we make do! Sorceress, get some kind of fire or electrical attack going, you've sat around long enough for that! The rest of you, OPEN FIRE!" Slade yelled, and the villains cut loose on the giant.

The Marshmallow roared as his soft body was punctured by bullets and set alight by Blackbolts, Kurai-bolts, and the Sorceress' electrical attack, not to mention Killjoy's launched grenades. But his sheer mass made the damage mostly cosmetic, and oh yeah, it also made him mad as hell, as he started running towards the villains as fast as he could.

* * *

"…now, those are just laws of etiquette in Britain. In France there are certain…" Brick said.

And Kong fell off the roof, having quite literally been put to sleep.

"…oh poppycock." Brick said.

* * *

"We're not slowing him down!" Kurai yelled, as the Marshmallow Man closed in, roaring its anger and pain. And Slade came to the abrupt realization that maybe running would have been a good idea.

When the giant wasn't so close.

"Oh dear." Slade said, as it loomed over them.

And then Kong came crashing down on the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, and the giant let out one last scream as it was smashed: while they hadn't done enough damage to its body to stop it themselves, the villains had weakened it enough so that something stronger could do it in.

Something like, say, a giant ape falling on it.

Unfortunately, all that marshmallow mass had to go somewhere.

"…….NO." Slade said.

And then he and the villains were buried in liquid sugar goop, as it splattered and sprayed the length of the entire city block.

* * *

Some time later, Brick emerged from the building's main doors and took in the sight.

"Ithlian? Are you all right?"

"So to speak." The Sorceress said, still trying to get marshmallow out of her hair via some spells. "What did you do?"

"Well, I attempted to make peace with it, and it somehow seagued into a lengthy speech on good manners…which he ultimately found less then thrilling as he fell asleep and fell off."

"…Twas Boredom that killed the Beast?"

"……….pretty much." Brick groused. "What about Rose?"

"The impact with the entity broke her fall. She's alive. Though at the moment I doubt her father cares." Sorceress said, pointing to a still rather cross and covered with marshmallow Slade. King Kong lay on the ground…snoring: the Marshmallow Man had proven to break his fall too.

"…we are never to speak of this series of events again." Slade told the grouped villains.

"What series of events?" The Handyman said as he strolled up.

"…you are supposed to be dead." Slade said, looking at the 'villain'.

"You'd think so, but you wouldn't believe what happened! What a story! And man, what a mess." The Handyman said, looking around. "Trying to rescue your daughter eh? Why didn't you just go up the stairs?"

Slade drew his gun and blew Handyman away with a scream.

"Like I said. You're supposed to be dead." Slade said, and turned away. "Sorceress, get some cleaning spells ready, and the rest of you, start forgetting. For YOUR sakes."

"Heh. Daddy's funny." A marshmallow-covered Rose giggled.

"Yeah…but not in the 'ha ha' sense." Kurai replied, as the villains moved on, leaving a sleeping Kong behind.

* * *

"I do not think that went precisely as it was supposed to. On both counts." The Lieutenant said.

"What the hell do I have to do, drop anvils on them? They're worse then cockroaches!" Freddy groused.

"Well, they ARE men and women with their own abilities that, unlike the children the first time, were too great collectively to fully seal. And more then a few have advanced combat training. Not that that would help them with me, but…"

"Shut up! You!" Freddy said, as it pointed to a shadowy figure nearby. "Change of plans! Head to the other two! And…you!" Freddy said, pointing to one of his robed Lieutenants. "As the kids on the intraweb would say these days, I've had enough 'lulz'! Time for blood! TEAR THEM APART!"

The lieutenant roared, and then whirled and stomped into the shadows, its feet loud and thundering as it disappeared.

"They know their way around some peashooters? Well then, I'll give them something to shoot at. Soon we'll be knee-deep in THEIR dead! And as for the other two…time for the classics! AHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!"

* * *

"You know, the world isn't built for the larger person and quite frankly it's disgusting." Westminster thought out loud. The beast that chased them was now gone. There were no ifs about it, but there was a but; but it had taken most of the hospital, most of their ammo, most of their clothing and most of their strength with it. There was another but though: but at least with it gone, it had seemingly taken the rest of the horror manifestation with it, Silent Hill, everything. The fourth floor looked like a normal albeit abandoned hospital floor.

"Huh?" Nightwalker said, as she struggled some with the new outfit Westminster had given her. She DID have a spare outfit, supercompressed with some fancy tech she'd won by batting her eyes as some nerd tech genius, but with her size that was a moot point: Westminster's clothing worked better. Even if seemed to be a white nurses uniform, of the style you might expect in a sex shop with it's short skirt and plunging neckline, thought it was doubtful it had been intended that way as it was cloth and not shiny PVC. It was more likely part of a more complete uniform but to what end was unsure. It did its purpose of covering up her rather damaged and depleted costume.

"They are treated as lazy and worthless just because they have a high number around their waist than the others do, and to be honest it shouldn't be that way. I can assume you're starting to understand?"

"That being big is useless in this world? Or that I was right about being fat?"

"The former, only due to thinking of the latter. Everyone can't be the same, many don't want to be the same."

"Oh don't I know that." Nightwalker said: having finished with her outfit she was now re-equipping her gauntlets, as Westminster rested on the floor. She noticed that somewhere in it all the bottom half of Westminster's mask had finally been ripped away, showing that the bone that plagued the doctor was coming back, returning in full force to retake his face as a piece of its land.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he stood up.

"A little tired from all that…but yeah. I'm fine…but what about you?" Sine asked as she raised a hand to his face and lightly touched the bone that was trying to annex his features. Poor bastard. Soon he would be wracked with pain and probably wishing for death. Sine hoped he had managed to pick something up within the confines of the hospital before all the shit hit the many fans.

"I'll be alright. It even proved useful. Nothing like suddenly becoming a porcupine to dissuade a bunch of dead nurses from their own brand of patient care…but that unpleasantness aside, I'm just glad we managed to get out of there." He smiled. It wasn't a perfect smile, more of the top row showed than the bottom in terms of teeth, but it had a sort of charm to it.

Unpleasantness, Sine mused. She'd heard him scream when he'd done that bone lance. Last ditch defense for yourself was one thing, but he'd done that for HER.

"I owe you." She stated, candidly. "Even through all of this shit, you stuck by me. You didn't have to, but you did, and even though you did you didn't do it for some cheap game of grabass."  
"Most men who were in it just for the ass would have dumped you the moment this trouble started. I'm here because sometimes we just need someone in our corner. You needed someone to be there for you, and that someone was me." He continued, looking in to her green eyes. "Though who could you blame me if I were? You are a beautiful woman." He said, causing her to look away.  
"No I'm not. I'm flawed, I'm ugly and fat." She stated, playing with her fingers.

"You don't get it yet do you?" He asked, taking her shoulders and pulling her body parallel to his own. "You are a beautiful woman, you always have been, but it's not just shape or size that determines beauty. Big people are beautiful, just as small women. They just have a different beauty. No man I have ever talked to ever wanted one of those stick thin super models, no man I have ever talked to has ever wanted anything like the skeletal bimbos on the TV or in the Magazines, but some for the reason that they prefer substance. Others, however, do it because they want a woman with strength." He stated, his words wafting over her with sincerity and honesty. He wasn't trying to trick her, he was just telling the truth as he saw it. "They want a woman who is confident, no matter how they look. They want a woman who has the inner strength to basically put two fingers up to the world and tell them to fuck off." He stated. Sine wondered about the whole two fingers thing; must be a British trait.

"And you're getting to what point?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that sort of thing. What is truly important is that YOU have the strength to say what YOU want and to have your morals. They can not be corrupted by anyone, ANYTHING. No matter who you are, no matter what size, what shape, you MUST keep true to your sense of self."

"And what do you think?" She asked, looking at him. "Your eye beholds me, what's the verdict?" She asked, clutching a fist to her chest in a manner most anime women do at some point.

"This." He simply said before leaning down and kissing her in a passionate and familiar way. His hands and arms wrapped around her body to softly being her close to him as she gently rested her fleshy arms across his shoulders around his back. They kissed like lovers; they kissed as if they didn't want it to end. It was all about the passion of the moment, and as long as that moment lasted they were safe.

* * *

It didn't seem quite right…

All Freddy could do was smirk and cackle like some form of deranged hyena.

"Gotcha."

And now you know why.

* * *

"You know, you're lucky. Takes a LOT for a man to impress me." Nightwalker said as she and Westminster headed up the stairway to the roof, in the hopes of getting around that almost-forgotten barrier and maybe seeing Slade's group: with the high ground, perhaps they could catch up.

"Oh what else do I have to do! Rub your feet? Make you breakfast? Rub your feet with your breakfast?" Westminster mock-bitched. Sine chuckled.

"I'll let you know. When it's done I'll make a list. And all that." Sine said, as she opened the roof door with the key and stepped aside, orb gauntlet at the ready.

The roof was large, wide, and empty, and strangely did not look over a Jump City in flames and chaos.

She knew it was there though. Below the surface.

"…where the FUCK IS THE BARRIER?" She snarled, as she realized she couldn't spot the damn thing that had blocked them, the damn thing that had seemed to go into the sky and beyond, in full 360 vision. "All that shit and it just up and vanishes?"

"Maybe we should have just asked nicely." Westminster joked as he went to the edge of the roof. "Hey Sine, got any binoculars or something?"

"In my helmet. Which won't work, the son of a…" Nightwalker trailed off.

As she saw the familiar fog drift in from behind her, and as she turned she found the whole rooftop manifesting it.

"….NOW WHAT?" She snarled, drawing her sword.

And she was answered…by a horse's whinny.

"…oh this is new." Westminster said, as he drew his handgun.

As the black figure strode out of the fog, a midnight black horse and a midnight black rider.

Who was missing a rather…crucial part of his anatomy.

"…I'm gonna kill Tim Burton." Nightwalker snarled.

As the Headless Horseman reared up, his equine snorting fire from its nostrils as it drew a massive broadsword, and then it's hooves thudded down to the roof and it charged.

Heads were gonna roll.

* * *

And the Sugarman stood…on the street, looking cross through his mask.

"There's never a taxi around when you need one!

* * *

_**Next Time, In Boogeymen III!**_

_"I'm TELLING you there's a spy! And it has to be…PUPPET KING!" Jack snarled as he grabbed Puppet King and pulled his head off._

_"OW! MY NECK!"_

_"…or maybe not."_

_"Why don't you stop it, lunatic, before you get us all killed." Kurai said._

_"You call me insane Jap? You're not the one who knows our deep, dark secret, mate!"_

_"What secret?"_

_"You don't get it, do you Kurai?" Jack chuckled, dressed now in black armor. "I AM YOUR HALF-BROTHER! And uh…shrimp on the Barbie?"_

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…wait, when was the last time an Australian actually said that?"_

"_Crocodile Dundee 4: The Revenge of the Demon Sharks?"_

"_Yeah, sounds about right."_

**8888**_  
_

"_Quick Doc, give me the flashlight!" Nightwalker screamed._

"_We don't have one!" Dr. Westminster replied as he dug frantically through their bag._

"_WHAT?"_

"_Our items are gone! Our weapons! Our health packs! EVERYTHING! OH NO!" Dr. Westminster screamed as the door broke down and armies of monsters poured through. "ARGHHHHHHHHHH!"_

_(WHITE FLASH)_

"_This…isn't really…happening!"_

_**FIGHT THE ETERNAL DARKNESS. Coming soon.**_

**8888 **

"_Deadpool! It's your baby!" Sorceress said._

_The Merc With a Mouth stared._

"…_What a twist!"_

**8888**_  
_

"_We have no choice!" Robin yelled. "RELEASE THE RANCOR!"_

"_RIDE 'EM COWBOY!" Gauntlet whooped as he charged out on the giant beast._

**8888**_  
_

"_YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME! I AM ATLAS! I DEMAND CONTEST" The robot boomed._

"_Here, take this." Slade said, and handed Atlas a cup and ball._

"_THIS IS ALL YOU CAN OFFER? THIS SEEMS PITIFULLY EASY!" Atlas boomed, and tried. And failed. And tried. And failed. And tried. And failed…_

_**SEVENTY YEARS LATER.**_

_"YES! ONE! ATLAS IS THE GREATEST!"_

_"__What a loser." Terry McGinnis commented._


End file.
